AU: Face
by The Pyrat
Summary: The Kira case is over and Mello is in prison for life, until an unexpected source offers him a way out in exchange for his help. Old enemies arise, a murder case becomes a personal threat, and a friend meant to be dead may be alive, and turned traitor...
1. Chapter 1

_Warnings: Spoilers for the whole series, shonen-ai, PG-13 language. _

_This story gave me so much trouble, so it took me a long while to write it. My big idea was Mello going to prison if he had survived the Kira case, and then I had a bunch of smaller ideas floating around beside it. I got to thirty pages with this thing at least three times then ended up deleting almost all of it. Then I thought of the Death Note doujinshi Limelight, and suddenly all the ideas were able to work together. I've never even read it, I just know the basic plot, but it helped inspire me._

_There are little things sprinkled throughout for you to discover, so you can start solving the mystery yourself. Think of it as Easter eggs. My late Easter present to you._

_And yes, Mello really did commit all those crimes. I found references for every one of them in the manga. I'll even give them to you, at the end of this chapter. _

_Death Note and all related characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata._

* * *

"We, the jury, find the defendant Mihael Keehl guilty of one count of 1st degree murder, accomplice to multiple counts of 1st degree murder, two counts of manslaughter, accessory to the purchase and sale of illegal substances, illegal possession and use of explosives, theft, kidnapping, accessory to kidnapping, extortion, nuclear blackmail, accessory to hijacking, and espionage."

"The defendant, Mihael Keehl, is hereby sentenced to life in prison, without the possibility of parole."

"This court is dismissed."

…

And that was it. My life might as well have ended that day, the day the judge and jury looked at me as if I were lower than scum in the gutter, the day the words "life in prison" sounded throughout the court, and throughout the entire world. The reporters, the flash of cameras, microphones shoved in my face. Coverage of the case in newspapers, on the TV, the radio. Everywhere. Kira may have been gone, but he sure did leave a mess to clean up. I, unfortunately, was part of that mess.

I once introduced myself as Mello, an alias chosen for my safety. But no longer. The name Mello was worth nothing now, just as it had been ever since Soichiro Yagami saw my true name. Mello was gone, and the man now known to the entire world as Mihael Keehl was behind bars.

I'd gone through the weeks since Takada's death and my arrest in an uncertain daze. One part of me acknowledged the loss, but most of me was still trying to keep up. I'd had it in my head for years that, someday, I would become better than Near. It wasn't just a dream; I believed it would be truth. That it would _unavoidably _be truth. Hopes die hard, but mine died fully when LA State Prison came into sight. Only then did I realize it was truly over, and that I had failed.

As I stepped off the bus, handcuffed and already dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, I got to thinking that this was to be my life. Caged until I died, living with the lowest kind of scum. How had it come to this? At what point had I reached their level? _How _was it possible, that I was as low as them?

I was supposedly lucky. Lucky, lucky, lucky Mihael. So very fortunate. Lucky to be in chains, lucky to be strip-searched and leered at by other inmates. Lucky because I wasn't dead. Death would have been preferable to this. I would rather have died, I would rather have gone down trying. I couldn't imagine growing old here, day after day the same, decades to think over everything. Wondering if it could have been different, if there was anything I could have done, or if it all had been futile from the start, a useless fight. I couldn't live like that. I wouldn't be able to stand it.

The guards knew it too. They'd been warned by the doctor who examined me before I came that I could develop suicidal tendencies, so they put me under close watch. Why did they bother? Why did they want to keep a murderer alive? But they drugged me up and locked me away, and I spent the remainder of my first day in a heady state of euphoria.

My first stroke of "luck" had come during Takada's kidnapping. According to Rule IX in the Death Note, if a name is accidentally misspelled four times, the Note will be rendered useless against that person. Takada, in her panic, managed to scribble down my name wrong multiple times, totaling over four, therefore causing Rule IX to take effect, essentially forever removing my risk of being killed by the Note. However, on her final try, she spelled it right. It wasn't fatal, but it still had an effect, one that baffled doctors. I heard them refer to it several times as a "spasm of every bodily system", but managed to figure out that it meant my body had shut down completely for a brief amount of time. That little episode caused the truck to wreck, and while I was out with a concussion, Takada, under the influence of a Death Note, set fire to the truck. Again, luck plagued me. All the proper people arrived in time to pull me out and haul me off to the hospital, where the doctors found my entire system to be in chaos in what was, as they said, one of the strangest things they had ever seen. My heart was having an especially difficult time getting itself back into a rhythm again. The end result of my three day hospital stay was a clean bill of health - though they were a bit concerned about my sugar intake – and a heart medication prescription. They also warned me to try to stay calm; too much stress and I could give myself a heart attack.

Then I was left to wait, to sit in a jail cell until it was announced that the Kira case was over. Though it wasn't publicly stated, I knew the case's ending could only mean that Near had won, and Kira was dead.

Then came the arguments over where I was to be tried and how they were to go about it. They weren't used to dealing with supernatural cases, that was certain. Still, as I was at the time still considered an American citizen, I was shipped off to LA to be brought up before a judge. He asked "How do you plead?", and I said "Guilty" with the cockiest smile on my face that I could possibly muster. Why deny it? What was the point? I wanted it over with quick, but it still took months for all the charges to be collected and proven. Then it was off to prison.

The one thing that was a true distraction to my mind during that time was Matt. I had been in the hospital at the same time he was, but managed to get very little information from the doctors and nurses. When I was at last told something, it was only the blunt words, "We can't legally cremate a person until all brain activity has stopped. That's the only reason he's still taking up a bed here."

For that reason alone, I was grateful for the meds. They took away the pain I felt for failing him. Most of it.

…

I wasn't built for prison. 5' 6" and a measly 114 lbs wasn't going to earn me any respect, even with a scar over half my face. After I was moved off suicide watch and into the main cell block, I realized just how vulnerable I was without a gun in my hand and thugs around me. It stung to realize that tough-guy Mello had been little more than a kid hiding behind his firearm and a gang. I could fight, but I was too lean to be a good brawler, and I wasn't well trained enough to fight as I was built. I knew this would cause trouble for me, so I avoided leaving my cell. That iron door was the only defense I had now. I managed to cling to my pride by reminding myself that I was far smarter than anyone in that prison, but I hated feeling as if I was weak.

I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. Good behavior soon earned me some freedoms, but I saw no point in them. To what purpose could I study, or devote hours to working out? I was never going to be let out of here, I was never going to overcome Near. It was over, my entire purpose in life. I had tried and failed. I'd lost my chance…

…and I didn't expect to be given another one.

…

A year in prison does something to you. Something changes, something gets turned off. It was no longer waking up in the morning and thinking "What am I going to do today?", it's waking up and thinking, "Food." Then going from food, to toilet, to pacing, to food. Again and again. Repetition. No thought, no differences. Perhaps something like a caged animal would get to feeling. It was partially my own fault, because I rarely went out, but I couldn't be blamed for that. I was a target, and I wasn't so stupid and prideful as to go and get myself hurt for the sake of trying to prove I wasn't afraid.

It was night, and I was lying on my mattress, staring at the rosary I'd hung at the foot of the bed, trying to figure out if I still knew how to pray. It was a pointless activity, but somewhat new. I strangely hadn't thought of it yet, and now it didn't seem like a bad time to try. I was feeling clean, which was unusual, but the guard had forced me to shower today for "sanitary reason". He could have just told me I stank. I hated all the beating-about-the-bush and code-talking that was done around here. The guard that patrolled my section - David was his name I think - was perhaps not so bad as the others, but he was bad enough. My first day, as he'd given me an injection of lorazepam, I'd cussed him out and he'd done nothing but smirk and say "Same to you." His nonchalant reaction would have left me ticked off for the rest of the day, if it hadn't been for the drugs.

At any rate, by that time of night, David was usually off work, yet I kept hearing him talking in the corridor outside my cell. His voice was an easy thing to recognize because it was so deep, so I was certain it was him. It was just murmuring, a quiet conversation with someone, but I couldn't figure out why he hadn't gone. I didn't have a watch or clock, so the meals and guard changes were the only way I could really keep track of time. David was throwing everything off with his late stay.

I sat up as the thump of boots approached my cell. I heard the click of the electronic lock withdrawing, and the door creaked open.

"What do you want now?" I grumbled, glaring at David as he watched me with that "I know your kind" bordering-on-a-smirk expression. "Haven't you bothered me enough for the day? Why the hell are you still here?"

"Get your stuff," he said. "We're going to take a walk."

"Why?"

"If you'd rather leave your things behind, I don't give damn," he said. "All you have are the beads anyway." He jerked his thumb toward the rosary, and I sat up angrily, snatching it off the wall and putting it around my neck. I did have some other things, some notebooks and pencils that I'd used to pass the time in here, but they didn't matter to me. I wasn't sure why the necklace _did_ mattered, but it had seen me through a lot.

I presented my wrists automatically for the cuffs David held. What was he about, taking me out of my cell this late? Was I being transferred? But that would happen during the day, wouldn't it?

"What's going on?" I said. "I like to stay away from talking any walks in the dark around here, especially while in chains. Can't this wait until morning?"

David shook his head as he led me from the cell. "Just stay quiet."

I hated following orders so easily, but continuing to question him wasn't going to get me anywhere. The halls were almost totally silent at this time of night. Judging by the route we were taking, I quickly assumed that I was being taken to the Warden. But why so late? Couldn't this have been done earlier today, or couldn't it have waited until tomorrow? Why was this being done now, in the dead of night, as if it was something to be kept secret?

I was indeed taken to the Warden's office, but we didn't enter it. The Warden was already waiting for us outside her door. Personally, I hated the woman. She was one of those "tough" people who had a tendency to look down their nose at you. Not only that, but she smirked like David did, the kind of smirk that meant they thought they already had you figured out.

"What's going on?" I said. "Doing something illegal in the dead of night, are we?"

The Warden sniffed, her gloved hands clasped behind her back. "Hardly illegal, Mr. Keehl. Merely rather unconventional. David, bring him this way."

I raised my eyebrows curiously, and didn't need David's encouraging jerk to begin to follow after the Warden. She led us through back halls usually reserved only for employees, until we reached a loading area, where I supposed shipments of food and supplies were usually dropped off. There were no trucks there now, but there was a car, an old Rolls-Royce by the looks of it. It was in good condition though, something that would belong to someone with a lot of money.

An older man dressed in a stiff, immaculate uniform stood waiting by the car, and he gave a slight bow as we approached. When he spoke, it strangely wasn't to the Warden, or even to David.

"Mr. Keehl, I presume?" he said, his British accent bringing back old memories. I nodded. What did he want with me? "I am here on the behalf of my employer, who has a most beneficial offer for you. Would you perhaps be interested?"

It was an odd contrast, the restraint of the handcuffs telling me I was a criminal, and this man's polite tone telling me I was someone to be respected. "Who's your employer?"

"I am not at liberty to say, sir."

Well that little line reeked of suspicious activity. I frowned uncertainly. "Shouldn't I know who I might be working for?"

"You will, in time, if you accept the offer. My employer wishes for you to make an unbiased opinion, however."

"Ah, so it's someone I know?" If knowing this "employer's" name could make me biased, then it would most likely be someone I either liked or disliked, as opposed to someone I didn't know at all. I'd known plenty of people throughout the years, from all walks of life and many different places, but there were only a three of them that I could imagine doing this, two of whom were in hiding. The third…well, if I was told it was him, I certainly would be biased. Biased enough to send this suited man back to his employer straight away, and answer his offer with a very sincerely meant, "Go to hell."

"What are the terms of this offer then?" I said. I already had my suspicions firmly set on who might have arranged this, but I knew I couldn't be too certain of anything. After all, this would be a strange move even for _him_.

"I shall explain, sir. Madam Warden, if you would please remove the gentlemen's restraints." The suited man smiled politely, and the Warden huffed even as she began to unlock the cuffs.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said.

"Indeed," the man nodded, still smiling. He withdrew an envelope from his jacket and held it out to me. "This letter is for you, sir. I was instructed to deliver it if you showed interest in my employer's offer."

I frowned, ripping open the envelope quickly. The letter within was printed on plain white paper, and wasn't marked with a company seal or a name.

_To Mr. Mihael Keehl,_

_As you have expressed interest in my offer, I suppose I must elaborate on my terms. It is quite simple really. I have heard of your upbringing and abilities, and believe your talents to be sorely wasted in prison. I wish to offer you a position as an investigator working under me. In exchange for your work, you will be freed from prison and provided with food and board. However, there are several terms you must agree to. You will be under surveillance by camera, your movements outside of HQ will be carefully tracked, and your departure from HQ will only be allowed if I approve it. I believe we can work well together. I am fully prepared to tolerate you, if you can agree to be civil. I hope to receive a positive answer._

_Oh, the man's name is Benjamin. Do not underestimate him. Give him your answer, and he will take care of the rest. Do not bother to ask him about my identity._

There was no signature.

"This is all already arranged?" I said, looking back to Benjamin. "If I say yes, you'll take me right now?"

"Indeed, sir," Benjamin took out another envelope, this one already opened and filled with carefully folded papers. "All the appropriate signatures have been made. The judge and the governor have approved your release. We also have a letter from President Sairas legally putting you into the custody of my employer, should you agree to the terms. All the arrangements are made."

So this was someone with enough authority to get through to all the important people, a fact which instantly gave me more proof to back up my suspicions. Well if Near wanted an underling, he would have to look elsewhere. It was not that I did not relish the idea of freedom, but if it was freedom at his hands, I certainly didn't want it. Accepting this meant I would owe something to him, and I never wanted to be in his debt. I wasn't going to jump to accept such an offer, as if he were doing me such a merciful favor.

"I can't agree to this," I said. Both David and the Warden gave me a look of disbelief, but Benjamin just nodded as if he had expected it.

"Very well, Mr. Keehl," he said, opening the driver's side door of the car. "I shall inform my employer of your answer."

I turned away, without David's encouragement, prepared to head back to my cell, when a voice calling my name from behind stopped me.

"Mihael-kun, I believe you would like to rethink your answer."

My heart pounded, adrenaline and panic coursing through me. No…it couldn't be…but I knew that voice. I didn't want to turn around, but I had to know for certain. How could I face him? The jury's verdict was ringing in my head, the judge's words. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Murder, kidnapping, theft, blackmail, extortion, espionage…

"_The defendant, Mihael Keehl, is hereby sentenced to life in prison, without the possibility of parole."_

I'd sunk too low. Far too low for his attention. I'd shattered all my teachings, abandoned every hope and dream and bit of good in my life for the sake of my own gain. Why was he here? He was supposed to be in hiding, he was supposed to be _dead_…

I braced myself and turned, meeting the eyes of the hunched man with messy black hair who stood by the back door of the car. He smiled slightly as I looked at him, then pulled a sucker from his pocket and put it in his mouth. "My offer still stands, if you are perhaps more inclined to answer positively this time."

* * *

_As I promised, here is the list of references for Mello's crimes. I hope you have the mangas handy._

_1st degree murder: killed a mafia boss, referenced in Death Note v. 7, pg, 197_

_Accomplice to 1st degree murder: the killing of the mafia members while obtaining the Death Note, the killing of the organization first sent after him by the President, and the killing of SPK members. Referenced in Death Note v. 8, pg. 73, pg. 80, pg. 177, and pg. 106-107_

_Manslaughter: caused the death of two mafia members during the explosion used to destroy the mafia hideout. Referenced in Death Note v. 9, pg 78_

_Accessory to the purchase and sale of illegal substances: the mafia family he was a part of actively sold drugs. Referenced several times. Ex. Death Note v. 8, pg. 73_

_Illegal possession and use of explosives: destroyed the mafia hideout to avoid arrest. Death Note v. 9, chapters 73 and 74_

_Theft: stole the Death Note from Japanese police. Volume 8, chapter 64_

_Kidnapping/accessory to: had the Director of Japanese police and Sayu Yagami kidnapped, and personally kidnapped Takada himself. Referenced multiple times. Ex. Death Note v. 7, chapter 60, Death Note v. 8, chapter 62, Death Note v. 12_

_Extortion: threatened the lives of the Director and Sayu in order to obtain the Death Note. Referenced multiple times. Ex. Death Note v. 7, chapter 60, and Death Note v. 8, chapter 62_

_Nuclear Blackmail: threatened the President of the United States that he would be forced through the Death Note to launch a nuclear strike. Referenced in Death Note v. 8, pg. 134_

_Accessory to Hijacking: ordered the hijacking of the plane Mr. Yagami was on. Referenced Death Note v. 8, chapter 64_

_Espionage: spied on the SPK, which was, at first, an official government organization. Referenced multiple times. Ex. Death Note v. 7, pg. 163 and 181._

_If you don't know what any of the official terms mean, look them up on Wikipedia. I did :)_


	2. Chapter 2

The Kira case claimed a lot of victims. I'm sure you've all heard by now of the story of Kira killing L, the world's previous greatest detective. That story is true, in a way, but not completely. Kira defeated L, that was certain, but he didn't kill him, in the literal meaning of the word. One could perhaps say L was bound to lose from the moment he started the investigation. Kira was already so far ahead of anyone who attempted to find him. The supernatural powers he had gave him an advantage over others. L went into the investigation not expecting the supernatural, so while he was still trying to find the beginning of the string, Kira was already tying up the end. That is not to say L was stupid or incompetent. He most certainly wasn't. He knew he was losing, and he hated it. There was a way he could still claim victory, but that victory would have to come to him through another's hands. That other was Near. L found out everything he could, got as far as possible, and when he knew Kira would soon kill him, he escaped in the only way he could: by staging his own death, and Watari's as well. It was brilliantly done. The death certificate was signed, there was a closed-casket funeral, and his headstone can even be found in the graveyard. The first L was dead, but the man that he had been was still alive, albeit living another life. Somewhat like Mello was dead, leaving only Mihael Keehl.

L left behind his discoveries for Near and I. But I…I could not accept that gift as it had been given. I couldn't bring myself to work with Near, and if I had forced myself to do so it would have been disastrous. It would not have been the two of us working together; it would have been me struggling to get ahead. I rejected my inheritance for pride, striking out on my own, to do things my way. I could not tolerate that there had been no victory. After all the years of struggling to get ahead and prove I was better, there was no reward. L was not there to tell me I'd done well, he was not there to choose me. My idol refused to give me a decisive end, so I decided to give myself one. I would catch Kira before Near. I would prove myself better in such a way that the entire world would know.

There was my mistake. I had thought this would never happen, and that L was gone for good. Like the sinner who tangles himself in the tightest chains of servitude to the Devil because he thinks he'll never meet God, I had rejected everything L stood for because I'd thought I would never have to face him. He was no saint himself, and would do almost anything to solve a case, if in the end his methods were justified by the removal of the criminal from society, which never failed to occur for him. But me…I'd done far more damage than I'd made up for. There was no excuse for it, as it had all been for my own gain. Every second, every plot, every murder, had been for myself. Not for the good of the world, not for destroying Kira. It had been for me. For defeating Near and getting ahead, and claiming my own victory. It wasn't a simple game; it was a war, between Near, me, and Kira. And in war, all too often the innocent are involved. Those people who are decent do their best to avoid involving said innocents. I did everything I could _to_ involve them. I'd dragged in men and women, even children, if that was what it took. Everyone else became simply a prop in my play; it was to be my performance, my moment to shine and take center stage.

But that was not to be.

It was really no surprise that seeing L again, standing there watching me with a shameless stare, made me feel sick. It was guilt and shame, every old doubt and fear, every old hope and dream, rushing back to haunt me. Things I'd thought I'd put behind me the moment I walked out of Roger's office, after being told L was dead to the world. What could he want with me? Surely his offer had not been truthful. He couldn't possibly want to _really _offer me a position working for him, not after all I'd done. I'd failed him hadn't I? I'd lost the game. L didn't want a failure; he wanted someone who would continue to uphold what his position stood for, who would continue to claim victories in his name. He already had Near, who could – I hated to admit it – do just that.

"You look rather surprised," L said, talking around the candy in his mouth. "Did you suspect it was Near who had orchestrated this? I thought you might, but I had to be sure. I see prison has not dulled your obsession with him."

I drew in my breath sharply. How was I to react to this? I suppose I could only face him bravely…but what if he'd really meant his offer? I'd resigned myself to facing the rest of my life here; what purpose did I have outside of prison?

"L," I said, turning around to face him fully. "Why…why did you come here?"

"To hire you," he said. "Hopefully. You'll be in my custody and by law you can't leave headquarters. But I'm in need of your assistance, and…expertise. A case has come up, and I believe you will be of great help in solving it."

"But you're retired," I said, still reeling. He'd meant it. He was honestly going to get me out of prison… "I thought you were done with detective work. You gave your position to Near." Something in me jolted painfully, memories rushing to me. How hard I'd tried, for _so long_…all to achieve something I could never have…

"I never retired Mihael-kun," said L, in a voice that said without words I should have known this already. "I simply left behind one part of my life and moved on to the next. Perhaps you would like to do so as well?"

I stood uncertainly, wavering between blurting out yes or shaking my head, and letting David take me back to my cell. I felt as if I wasn't ready to be out, as if I wasn't ready to face society. Just like the sinner who's gotten himself tangled; the chains keep him captive but they feel so good to have. Before long they become his only support because he can't stand on his own. The Devil's chains become a puppet's strings and he's just the doll. Try to cut the strings, and he'd better damn well have someone there to hold him up. Was L enough support for me? He had been before, when I was a child. But would he be enough now?

What could I lose? I'd sunk so low already…from here I could only go up.

"Alright," I said. "I'm ready for the next part."

I'd cut the strings, and I could already feel myself falling, but it wasn't as bad as I'd thought. The last remnants of Mello shattered, and a man named Mihael Keehl straightened his posture, and shook the hand of his employer.

…

It was somewhere around 11:00 pm, with a cool breeze blowing across the open room, ruffling the gauzy cream colored curtains. Women in satin evening gowns and sparkling jewels glided across the marble tiles, sipping vintage red wine, while men in their black suits gathered in groups of threes and fours to stand in corners, quietly discussing money and politics. The orchestra had reached the middle of a particularly delicate piece, one too soft to dance to, but still pleasing to the ear. It soothed the buzz the wine created, and provided an excellent cover for conversations that were best kept unheard.

It was the social occasion of the year, a massive gathering of high-class mobsters and cheating businessmen, all skillfully disguised beneath the twittering orchestra and romantic atmosphere. Oh this was much more than a light party, much more than a meal and a dance. Deals would be made tonight, fates of men would be decided, targets would be assigned, and every man and woman in the place was carrying a firearm under all their silk and decorations. Every face was calm, but hearts were pounding, the guns were loaded, and one spark could light the short fuse this place had.

And there I stood in the midst of it all, a wine glass in my hand, which I'd been sipping at oh-so-carefully for over a half-hour. I couldn't afford to get the slightest bit drunk tonight. I'd brushed my hair back, wearing it slick and clean, dressed to look as sharp as possible, but daring with a shirt of bright red. Bright enough to catch the women's eyes, and once their insatiable curiosity brought them beside me, there were enough expensive jewels weighing down my fingers to keep them close. A dance, a few drinks, perhaps an arm around their waist or a caress…they would talk. These were men who were old and rich, and these were women who were young and beautiful. They married for the money, not because they wanted the men. They could therefore be so easily tempted by a handsome face…and that was what I was here for.

It was ridiculous to assume they knew nothing. These men couldn't win their ladies' hearts with their looks, so they bragged. They bragged of who they'd killed, of the underground deals they'd made. They told it all to the women, who in turn told it to me. Perhaps I wasn't exactly right for the job, but I was better than L. Carefully applied make-up covered almost all of my scar, hidden recording devices captured every conversation, and my ID introduced me as James Wallace. We had been preparing for this night for weeks, and so far it couldn't have gone smoother.

I casually set my glass upon a nearby table, lightly brushing the hand of a woman who sat there, and made my way toward the bathrooms. As I did, I glanced across the room, to where the dark haired Stephen Gevanni was talking among a group of "gentlemen". I caught his eye pointedly, and he excused himself from the group to follow after me.

The bathroom was a single room, no stalls thankfully, so we were alone. He sighed as he locked the door behind us, looking rather put out.

"What's wrong Stephen?" I said, loosening the wretched necktie that had been choking me all night. "Not the way you'd like to spend your Saturday night?"

Stephen glared at me as he took off his jacket. "Having to spend my time making small talk with _your kind _isn't my idea of a nice evening."

I laughed softly, low in my throat, hardly amused. Stephen and I had decided not to like each other from the start, and having to work with him was difficult. But I'd managed to make myself get along with Near over the past few months. Compared to him, Stephen was easy.

I took out my cell phone, punching in a number, and said, "If there's anything to report to L-"

"I'll talk to him myself," said Stephen. I rolled my eyes, and heard a click on the other line as my call was answered.

"Yes?" The deep voice of Anthony Rester greeted me.

"This is Keehl," I said. "Get me L."

"L here."

"Everything has gone smooth so far," I said. "The tension is there, but it isn't so bad. I expected it to be worse. Two sources said there was going to be a shooting tonight, after the party is dismissed, but they differed on who it would be getting the bullet. There's no news on why there's so much mafia movement going on in LA. The most I got was that it's just 'business'. As for the murders there, I was told by everyone I asked that it was just a personal vendetta, some guy acting on his own, or just with a small group. A few told me they've seen the guy who did it, but they don't know his name. Some say he's a small time mobster, and is only keeping himself alive because he's got all the right connections. Apparently he knows someone who can provide him with military-issued weapons. He's made no efforts to climb the mafia social ladder, and one woman told me he's after someone in particular and isn't interested in money. Sounds like bull to me, but that's all I've got on him."

"Very good Mihael-kun," said L. "Try to leave before the party is dismissal; if there are any killings, I'd rather you and Mr. Gevanni not get caught up in it. Does he have anything to report?"

I handed the phone over to Stephen, who began relaying his own findings, which weren't so different from mine. The main difference was he'd gotten a name for the man supposedly behind the murders in LA: Jeremiah. No surname, but any information helped. Who knew what L could do with it? A name could close a case, if entrusted to the right mind. With L, Near, and myself all investigating this, I couldn't imagine it being very difficult.

With our findings reported, I left the bathroom first, and Stephen was to follow me after ten minutes. I positioned myself well within sight of a woman I had yet to question, throwing her a quick "accidental" glance. Easy. She'd be over to talk in minutes.

I leaned casually against one of the pillars. The room was void of walls, giving a view out over the ocean cliffs, and I closed my eyes as another breeze came up. It was amazing how my personality had calmed since L took me out of prison. Though Near still grated on my nerves, I didn't feel the desperate inferiority I once had. Perhaps it was because L was there every step of the way, and was always sure to tell me I was doing well. I sometimes felt childish for liking his praise so greatly, but-

My train of thought abruptly crashed, as another group of mobsters entered the room. They weren't dressed as well as the others, a sign of less money and a lower social standing, and there were only three of them. One of them was about in his thirties, looking plainer than an everyday businessman on his way to work. The shortest of them – I suspected he was even shorter than myself - was dressed nicer but in a sloppy way, with his shirt untucked and not buttoned all the way up. He had a fedora worn low on his face, casting his features into shadow, and he walked with his head down, as if he wasn't comfortable with the situation. But it wasn't him, nor the first man, that bothered me. It was the man leading them. Tall and young, with straight black hair just brushing the tops of his ears and dark tanned skin. He wore a suit jacket over a shirt that was unbuttoned nearly halfway down his chest, and he was the only one in his little group that was adorned. A small stone was in his left ear, and a gold chain and medallion were hanging around his neck. I knew him…

I reached into my pocket, pressing the walkie-talkie button on the side of my cell, chirping Stephen twice, our single that we needed to get out. I began to make my way toward the exit, strolling, and I unfortunately had to pass by the man on my way out. I didn't look at him, but I felt his eyes on me as we drew closer together. He couldn't possibly recognize me-

"Hey," he stopped as I drew within a few feet of him. "Don't I know you?"

I pretended to think a moment, then shrugged and glanced at my watch. "I doubt it. I'm not from around here. Listen, I've got to meet someone. Sorry I can't stay and chat."

"I could _swear _I know you from somewhere," he said, looking me over rather bluntly. "What's your name?"

"James Wallace," I said, beginning to walk again, but I made sure not to turn my back on him. The third man, the oldest, had gotten bored and was making his way over to the food table, so I was left with the two remaining men. I suddenly realized why the shorter one had yet to raise his head; he was carrying an I-Pod in one hand. I still wasn't able to see much of his face even this close, as he was wearing dark glasses, but I was only concerned with getting out of here without attracting anymore suspicion. People were already beginning to glance our way, wondering if they were perhaps going to see two rival families clash, but they hopefully wouldn't be getting a show tonight. Damn it, where was Stephen?

"James," the man rolled the name over his tongue thoughtfully, then frowned. "I must have been mistaken then." That was a lie. His voice told me he was more convinced than ever.

"We all make mistakes," I said, taking a risk and turning my back on him to walk away. I ran my tongue nervously over my lips, walking a bit faster.

"Yes," the man said, just loudly enough for me to hear. "We do make mistakes."

Something about the way he said it made it seem almost like…like a threat. I was swiftly out the front door, making my way down the steps two at a time, headed toward the black corvette parked along the street. I pulled the keys from my pocket, and at the same moment I heard a click behind me.

I jerked aside, throwing myself behind a low brick wall to my left, and I heard a bullet hit the concrete just beyond where I'd been standing. It would have gone right through me. I reached into my jacket, pulling out a handgun and peering cautiously over the wall, and saw the black-haired man making his way down the stairs, his gun drawn. I hadn't thought of him earlier when the Stephen had mentioned his name to L…surely there was more than one Jeremiah in the mafia. But if he really was the LA murderer and he really was after someone in particular…

"So you still aren't going to face your enemies like a man?" I heard him call. "Always hiding! Who are you using this time?"

I cocked the gun, leapt to my feet, and fired three rounds as quickly as I could. They missed, but only barely, and I risked running across an open area to get closer to the car. I actually felt the breeze as another bullet shot past my head. Damn it, he had good aim.

I heard another gunshot, but this one wasn't from Jeremiah. Our own feud had struck the spark, and now the fuse on this bomb had run out. Blood would be spilled tonight, and I could only pray none of it was mine.

Jeremiah was approaching fast, and the run to the car was too long and open to risk at this distance. I fired once over the wall, but my shot was off by far, and I began to make my way into the trees further to the side of the house. They were thick pine and it was dark beneath, hopefully dark enough to provide me cover. I sank back under the boughs, trying to make my way silently. I heard Jeremiah yelling again, not to me but to his cronies, calling them to the hunt. I heard footsteps crunching on the pine needles, and checked to make sure I had extra bullets in my pocket.

"I know you're here," he said, his voice low and dangerously close. I held my breath to keep silent, pressing myself behind one of the trees. The only hope I had now was to run east, which would take me back to the street. If I went west I'd run into the cliffs, and from there it was a straight drop of several hundred feet to sand and rocky water. If I kept going south, the direction I was currently headed, I'd find myself backed up against the neighbors' ten foot brick wall. Of course, the street presented the risk of running straight into one of Jeremiah's men, but that was a risk that had to be taken.

Another bullet sent wood flying as it struck the side of the tree I was behind, and I scrambled back quickly, making sure to put myself within firing range and send off two shots in his direction. I heard a yell, telling me I'd been successful. Jeremiah was far from dead however.

"Get him, damn it!" I heard him yelling. "That way, idiot, go!"

I heard the sound of someone running toward me, and I took off at a run as well. The longer I waited around exchanging shots the more likely it was for someone else to come corner me in. I needed to get out fast.

I tripped up a bit over a beer bottle lying on the ground, nearly losing my footing, and the next thing I knew someone slammed me to the ground. I hadn't even realized how close my pursuer had been. I felt the muzzle of a gun press against the back of my head and twisted aside, barely in time to avoid the shot. I heard the guy curse, just before I struck him across the face with the handle of my own gun, then leapt to my feet and took aim as he stumbled back, blood dripping down his face. I pulled the trigger…

And got nothing but a click. I was out of bullets.

That pause was enough of one for my attacker to lunge again, and I realized it was the shorter of the two mobsters who had been with Jeremiah. His hat was knocked off as he attacked again, and suddenly we were both wrestling for his gun, his blood dripping onto my hands and making them slick. I released the gun, putting him off balance and punched him solidly across the face, cracking his glasses straight in two. I lunged for the gun again, pinning him on his back and putting his head right in ray of moonlight that had managed to find a way through the trees. In that instant I froze, because his was another face I recognized. But he was supposed to be…

His eyes widened, uncertainty showing momentarily then disappearing into horror. He shook his head, whispering, "Mello…you're…"

I scrambled off him, grabbing my empty gun and sprinting toward the street, refusing to look back. He didn't call after me, or continue to follow. For all I knew, he lay where I'd left him, still in shock. Or I could have been dead wrong about him, and my mind had played tricks on me.

Stephen and I reached the car at the same time. I threw open the driver's side door, jammed in the keys and started the engine, pressing down the peddle all the way to the floor.

0 to 60 in about 3 seconds, and I was up to 80 in 5. I'm pretty sure I beat a record with that one.

* * *

_I suppose I should tell you a bit about the_ _name of this story and why I decided to call it what I did. "Face" probably seems strange, but it actually relates to the story quite a bit, and you can discover how if you think about it. Remember, there are different ways to use the word "face". It can refer to the face of a person or it can refer to facing something, like a challenge or a past mistake. Facing consequences, facing something shameful, or facing someone you've let down. Then of course, there's simply seeing a familiar face. It all ties into the story._

_Also, a bit about L's usage of "-kun". I am not randomly sprinkling bits of Japanese through out the story, I don't believe in doing that. Seeing as how "-kun" can not exactly be directly translated to English, and L uses it even in the translated manga, I consider it simply part of the way he talks._


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two months since L took me in. It was only after I'd agreed to his offer and we'd been on the road for nearly half an hour that he bothered to tell me that it wasn't going to be just us two working alone. Near was apparently the one officially in charge of the case L had mentioned, and it was Near who wanted my assistance. We'd therefore be working – and sharing headquarters – with him, along with Anthony Rester and Stephen Gevanni. Apparently mafia activity had nearly doubled in LA during the past few months, with a mobster to be seen on nearly every corner of every block. Then there were the killings, two bosses murdered, shot in the head. Nathaniel Young, murdered on March 1st, then "Big Ben" Benjamin, killed only a day after. That alone probably wouldn't have been enough to catch L's interest, or even Near's, but there was one more aspect to these killings: every victim's mouth had been smeared with chocolate.

I hadn't thought anything of that particular fact at first. Near and L thought I would be of help because I knew the mafia, and they were right about that, though I was never sure if they were being completely honest with me about their reasons. After tonight, I doubted them more than ever. If Jeremiah really had been the one behind those murders…then was the chocolate more than just a killer's game? Was it a threat to someone? A threat to _me_? And if it was, had Near and L suspected it from the start?

It would make sense for him to be after me. A traitor among mobsters was not tolerated, and it was true that I'd done nothing but use them, then get them all killed. _Most _of them. But not Jeremiah, whom I'd never trusted from the start, because he'd always been suspicious. He'd always questioned me, always hesitated to follow my orders. He was a threat to my power in the family, and I'd tried so many times to get him killed, but Rod wouldn't have it. Jeremiah may have been low in the hierarchy, but he was a valuable man and had good connections. Connections with weapons – and explosives.

As for the other man, the one who came so close to shooting me in the back of the head…I could jump to no conclusions yet. It had been dark under the trees, and moonlight was a tricky thing. I couldn't allow myself to think that it might actually have been _him_. I'd put that person behind me; to bring him back now was to risk opening myself up to all kinds of hurt that I didn't want to bear. And I really didn't want to go back on the meds again.

Blood was smearing all over the steering wheel from my hands, and my chest ached from when I'd been knocked to the ground. But I was alive and uninjured, and Stephen was the same. In all, the night had been a success, even though it had come close to being a disaster. We'd gotten some valuable information, and perhaps even the fight had been a good thing. It proved Jeremiah was after me, giving us a new lead on the LA case. Though we still knew nothing concerning the mafia movements, we were making progress.

We had a three hour drive ahead of us, back down to headquarters in LA. Near had relocated here after the Kira case had ended, and had built a good sized building to be used as a HQ. He'd even gotten Halle to do some interior decorating – only due to some prodding from Rester, who said he should have a decent home to live in – and the place ended up looking like a five-star hotel. Except for the underground floor, which was storage, and the very top floor, which was filled with filing cabinets, TV monitors, and computers. L, Near, and myself all had a floor for our own personal living quarters, Gevanni and Rester drove home to their apartments at night, and Benjamin had a small guest room on L's floor. It was a decent place, and even with Near there I couldn't complain. It was better than prison.

I parked the corvette in the underground garage, sighing as I looked at the bloody mess I'd made of the steering wheel. The car wasn't exactly mine…but L never drove it and I always did, and I was usually careful to take good care of my more expensive belongings, unless they irritated me. Hopefully the leather wouldn't stain.

Several retina-scanners and metal-detectors later, Stephen and I had made our way to the building's fifth and final floor. The elevator doors opened onto a room that seemed to be made up almost entirely of metal and electrical cords. L was crouched in a chair in front of one of the monitors, pouring chocolate syrup onto a bowl of ice cream, and Near was somewhere at the back of the room, carefully constructing his precious card towers. He'd already filled almost the entire room with them, with nothing but narrow paths to walk between. I liked to keep a good distance of about three feet between the cards and I, as we tended to collide. The first time it had happened, I'd thought it was amusing to see Near's serious face as all the cards fluttered down around him, but dealing with his glare for days afterward, until he built the towers back up, got annoying. He had changed since I'd last seen him during the Kira case, that was certain. He'd finally lost that baby-face of his and had gotten leaner, more a man and less a boy, which, at 20 years of age, I'd certainly hope he would be.

"What happened?" said L, as Stephen and I exited the elevator. I suppose it was rather obvious that something had gone wrong by the state of my clothes and hands. Near's head popped up from among the cards to see us.

"We didn't quite get out before the shooting started," said Stephen. "I don't know who started it…" He looked at me accusingly.

"I ran into someone I knew," I said. "Jeremiah Rost. He was one of the few _mafiaso_ in the family that didn't get killed. I suspect he's also the one who's been doing the killings in LA. He's out for revenge against me, for shaming the family." I didn't mention the other man. That could wait until later.

"As we suspected," said Near, disappearing back among the cards. "The chocolate on the victims was a message, a warning. It is disappointingly simple really. He killed two bosses and put chocolate on their lips, sending a very clear message that he was after you."

"Hmmm," L brought the bowl to his lips, slurping up some of the syrup and melting ice cream. "It would seem that is it. Disturbingly easy."

"But that's not all there is to it," I said. "What about the mafia movement? There's still more to the case that doesn't tie up. Jeremiah is a small-time mobster; he's got his cronies, but he's not a boss, and I don't think he's part of a family, not since he lost his last one. He might be trying to start his own, though. He had two other men with him when he arrived at the party."

"I suppose it was he and his cronies who caused trouble for you, Mihael-kun?" said L.

"Yeah," I looked down at the blood on my hands, now dried to brown. "They did. If you're going to send me out again, get me a better weapon." I tossed my gun down on the desk in front of L. "An automatic. It's too risky to be slowed down, and Jeremiah has a lot of firepower."

"Now that you've been recognized, it would probably be best not to send you out again," said Near. "Stephen should retire from such things as well, at least for a while. You attracted a lot of attention tonight, and it was risky enough as it was, sending you out at all."

I nodded. It really was amazing I'd been able to go unrecognized as long as I had. "Alright then. Stephen can tell you his side of things for now. I'm going down to bed." I walked back to the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor, then leaned against the wall during the brief ride down, exhaustion finally catching up with me. I still had more I wanted to do tonight, but it wasn't going to be easy staying up. My eyes were aching with the want for sleep.

I showered, thankful to be able to wash off all the cosmetics I'd had to put on to disguise myself. It was ridiculous how much gel I had to use to keep my hair slicked back. Looking in the steamed mirror as I toweled off, I felt – and looked – far more like myself. My scar was visible again, stretching across the left side of my face and just covering the bridge of my nose, even marring my shoulder as well. It would have been awful hard to get a woman to say anything to me, to come anywhere close to me, with that flaw showing. But to me, it was just another memory, a memento from life's mistakes.

I didn't change into any clothes, considering I wanted to get to bed soon and wouldn't be leaving my room. I was perfectly happy to wear clothes during the day, and be _picky _about those clothes, because I suppose I was actually rather vain and enjoyed looking good. It must have been pretty stuck-up of me, but I didn't really think any kind of attire did me justice. The clothes that came closest were of leather, and hugged my form as tightly as possible, so I was (literally) putting on a second skin. Plus, black set off my face, because of my blond hair and light skin, so the me beneath the clothes got plenty of attention as well. I liked to have heads turn and people stare. I was someone worth their attention, so they'd better look.

But when it was just me, with no one to impress, I was content to wear nothing at all. My clothes weren't exactly the most comfortable anyway. It was _not _easy to squeeze into pants as tight as mine.

I took a seat in front of my computer and switched it on, taking out a pen and pad of paper in case I needed to write anything down. The computers here already had access to police files, and even limited access to some government files, thanks to the influence of Near and L. I decided to look up basic records first; after all, why look up a criminal record on someone who could be dead? I felt slightly ill, venturing back to thoughts of this subject after so long, but I went ahead and typed in the name in the search box.

Mail Jeevas.

I had to use the U.K's database, since as far as I could remember Matt had never actually obtained American citizenship. He had been here on a passport, still considered a citizen of England. I managed to find him after nearly half an hour of searching through Mail Jeevas's. The picture he'd had taken for his driver's license stared at me from the screen with a look that was somewhat uncertain but bordering on a smile, as if he hadn't quite been ready for the picture. I smiled back automatically, sighing heavily. I'd really messed up, hadn't I?

No death date was listed, and my heart pounded a little harder. If he'd died in a Japanese hospital, would the information still be listed here? The world had been in such chaos at the time, I could imagine it being so simple for one death to be overlooked. This didn't prove much to me; I couldn't allow myself to get excited. I decided to search U.K criminal records next, as I was pretty sure he probably would have been sent there to be tried for his crimes. Yet all his crimes had been committed in either Japan or America, unless there were others I didn't know about…

Only one result came up for him. He had been found guilty of stealing a pack of cigarettes at 15. I rubbed a hand over my face, thinking hard. Was it possible that he might not have been taken to court at all? He was such a small player in the game; he shouldn't have even been involved.

But maybe this was all simply my own hopes. Of course I wanted him to be alive. I was already looking for any excuse for him to be. I went on searching, checking Japanese and U.S records next. The only thing he had in the U.S was about a dozen speeding tickets, and there was nothing on him in Japan. He'd had few days stay in a jail in Mexico, for drag racing. But there was nothing to tell me for certain whether he'd lived or died.

I thought back to the encounter with the mobster, trying to imagine his face again. I couldn't trust my own mind now. It would make me see what it wanted me to see, which was that it really had been Matt and he was alive. It so easily could have been someone else…but he'd recognized me too hadn't he? If it really had been him, why was he with the mafia? Especially with Jeremiah, who didn't seem to be keeping it a secret that he hated me?

I turned off the computer, going over to flop down on the bed. The only way to know for sure was to see him again, but apparently I wasn't going to be sent out on anymore investigations like that. After tonight, the danger level had jumped drastically. If Jeremiah already knew I was in LA, it was only a matter of time before he discovered where I was staying. We were well protected here, but he could hire men to patrol the streets outside, and they'd shoot on sight. I didn't want to end up being confined to HQ, but it would probably be best if I laid low for a while, and saw how things developed with the case before going out again. If it really had been Matt, he seemed fine for now. Besides, he could handle himself well enough. He'd managed fine before I involved him in all this; perhaps it was actually better for him if I stayed away. Being allied with me would make him a traitor as well, and before long he'd be finding mafia bullets aimed at his own head.

…

"_This is it then, huh?" Matt glanced at me as he unlocked the door to his Camaro. "We're really doing this?"_

"_Yeah," I said, pulling out my cell phone to make sure the battery was charged. I straddled my motorcycle, took out my gun and made sure it was fully loaded. "We're as ready as we'll ever be, I guess."_

"_We could put it off a few days Mel-"_

"_No. Near's going to act soon. It has to be now. We can't wait."_

_Matt sighed heavily, leaning against the hood of his car and lighting up a cigarette. He was nervous, I could tell. He looked up at the sky, his goggles flashing in sunlight. "It's a nice day at least."_

_I rolled my eyes. "It's just dandy Matt."_

"_No, really. Don't you think?" He laid back on the hood, folding his arms behind his head, the cigarette in his mouth. "It's real nice."_

"_Look, I don't give a damn. Is your cell phone charged?"_

"_Yeah, yeah," he sat up, looking irritated. "And I got the gun. Everything's ready."_

"_Good. We'll leave in about half an hour. Takada should be arriving at NHN by that time." I checked my watch to be sure, then settled myself on the bike, feeling excitement rush through me. I wanted to go now, and kept having to remind myself to be patient._

"_Why are we doing this Mel? Huh? Honestly, what's the point-"_

"_The point is to make something of ourselves! Didn't you ever want that Matt? To be someone, to have people know who are and recognize you for what you've done? Don't you have any aspirations at all?" I huffed in exasperation, shaking my head. "This is for us, to prove ourselves. To prove we aren't small players in this game, to prove we mean something. How can you not want that?"_

_Matt walked slowly over to the bike, blowing a puff of smoke into my face and making me cough. "Mello, I'm content with being the someone I am right now. I'm happy to have my video games and cigarettes, and quite frankly I don't care if I spend my days sitting on a crate in an alley and sleeping on park benches. I'd be happy doing the occasional job for someone, living off ramen, and having a drink once in a while. Maybe I __**don't**__ have any aspirations, not by your standards. I don't need everyone staring at me everywhere I go, I don't need to be 'known'. In fact, I think it'd be real cool to be the guy that walks into a small desert town restaurant and everybody whispers and wonders who I am. I think it'd be cool to order two cokes and walk out without even glancing at anyone, and have you waiting out in the Camaro. I think it'd be cool to drive till the sun goes down and then rent a junky hotel and play video games 'til the next morning. Then I'd do it all over again. That's all I can really say I wanted out of my life."_

_I raised my eyebrows skeptically. "Wanted? Who says you can't have it?"_

_Matt laughed. "Mello, we're committing suicide and you know it. Right now I'm just wondering where I gonna go when I die."_

"_Matt, don't be stupid-"_

"_I never got a religion. I mean you're all set, with your freaking Hail Mary beads-"_

"_Matt, it's a rosary, idiot. And I'm not religious."_

"_Sure you are. You're always praying."_

"_No I'm not! It isn't praying, it's…habit. Okay? Just habit. I'm not freaking religious and we're not going to freaking die. When this is done we're going to go drive to a desert restaurant and get cokes and rent a junky hotel, got it?"_

_Matt smiled, not a grin or smirk, but a real genuine smile, the kind that made my stomach flip and reminded me of being a kid. It was a good feeling. I liked seeing him smile. "Okay, Mel." He ran his finger over where my scar extended over my nose. "You'll come with me?"_

"_Of course I will. I have to pay you back somehow for helping me. Besides, maybe it'll be fun."_

_His smile lingered, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah. It'll be fun."_

_We left about twenty minutes later, making sure we stayed within sight of each other as we drove down the busy street toward NHN. This whole operation depended on working in unison, and we couldn't afford to separate until the last minute._

_There was one final stoplight before our destination, and we had to stop on the red. We could see the news building just ahead, and hear the cheers for Lady Takada as she arrived. I sighed heavily, willing myself to calm, and I glanced over at Matt, beside me in the Camaro. He was looking back._

"_Good luck," I said. He just stared at me a moment, then opened his car door, stepped out, and right in the middle of the street, Matt, Mail Jeevas, kissed me._

_It wasn't demanding or lustful. His lips were touching just beside my own, close, but an intentional avoidance. It was just a touch, just contact, yet it made my breath catch. No one had ever kissed me. Not on the mouth, not on the cheek, no where. Not even as a kid. The light turned green, cars swerved around us and drivers cussed us out, but it didn't really matter. I felt good._

_Matt pulled away slightly, then, after hesitating a moment awkwardly, said, "That was as a friend."_

"_Right," I whispered my response._

"_I love you as much as a friend possibly could Mello." He began to back away, then leaned forward again and said, "We don't have to get a junky hotel either. I'd rent you a resort if you wanted it. And if you want a Sprite instead of a coke, I'll get you that too."_

"_What if I wanted Root Beer?" I said, an entirely stupid thing to say as he got back in his car and shut the door. But it made him smile again._

"_If that's what you wanted, Mel."_

_I nodded. It was time to move, time to carry through. It was now or never. I glanced at Matt a final time, and gave him a genuine smile of my own. "You pay for the food; I'll pay for the gas. Alright?"_

"_Alright." He revved the engine and took off, while I took a sharp turn to wait until the appropriate time to move. There was a faint taste of ash near the corner of my mouth…_

… "_The man who was shot down has still not been identified"…_

_I didn't mean for it to happen that way. I'd really thought he'd make it. I'd thought the attention would be on me, since I had Takada. But I'd been wrong. Again I'd acted for myself, and I'd gotten you killed…_

_I'd genuinely meant it, when I said I was sorry._


	4. Chapter 4

Five days later there was another murder, and a bank in downtown LA was emptied of nearly everything it had. Near called in Halle to do some on-location investigation for him, while I waited restlessly at HQ. When she returned, Halle reported that the murder was being counted as one of the mafia serial killings. The chocolate had been spread on his mouth and he was shot in the head, just like all the rest. Most called him Arrow, but his real name was William Aro, dead on the 8th of May. As for the bank, the security systems had been hacked and shut down. Every camera had been turned off and every door had been unlocked, all without raising the alarm.

"It was an impressive job," Halle said, as Near, L, and I sat around the top floor to listen. I was feeling anxious. I had wanted to be the one to go down to the scene, but both Near and L had adamantly refused to let me go. Since I was still considered a convict by law, and wasn't legally allowed outside, I couldn't exactly go anywhere. This building had a lot of security, and I couldn't get through any of it unless someone else was there to let me through, or the security codes had been input to allow me a one-way trip past the scanners. Halle went on, "It would have taken someone with a great amount of skill to pull off the job so smoothly. Either a very experienced hacker, or an employee. It's still being investigated, but so far, most of the workers have been cleared. There were no fingerprints, but the FBI is doing a final sweep to check for any evidence. Whoever this was, they knew their trade well."

I bit off a chunk of chocolate, my nerves feeling as if they would snap. Was it just coincidence? I still had no proof of anything, but to know that Jeremiah, and therefore his unknown crony, were somewhere in LA at the same time as such a perfectly executed bank robbery raised my suspicions. I knew Matt had been good with computers, and if he was going to do a hack job he'd do it right. But this…this wasn't his style. He wasn't the kind of guy who was out for money or prestige. He never had been. He'd said it himself, he'd be happy with his Camaro and an open desert road. A pack of cigs and a junky hotel. What purpose was there in him joining the mafia, even if he had lived? And if he had made it through and was currently out of jail…why hadn't he attempted to contact me?

"What do you think Mihael-kun?" said L, looking to me with one finger hooked in his mouth. I leaned back in my seat.

"It doesn't seem like a mafia job," I said. "Most _mafiaso _aren't common thugs. They make their money through business, not bank robberies. However, the fact that this wasn't a hold up but a hack job, and a good one, probably means that this is either someone who's rich enough to have been trained, or rich enough to hire someone. I don't think any hacker with this much skill would work for free. There's also a third option: it could be someone with connections that can get him a hacker. All of this points to someone going for the big time, not some back alley gangster or everyday punk out for some cash. So if it _was _the mafia, it's probably not one of the big bosses. It could be someone just starting out, looking for a way to jumpstart his position with some big money. How much was taken?"

"Just over a million," said Halle.

I took another bite of chocolate, letting it melt in my mouth. "If it is someone just starting out…..he's probably rather stupid. Robbing a bank is a trashy way to get money. No one's going to look on this with respect, even it was done using a hacker of incredible skill. So perhaps – and this is all in the assumption that it _is _mafia work – he's just strapped for cash and needs some fast. Maybe he owes someone money…no, no. No smart boss would take cash so freshly stolen, and every boss around here knows it's stolen too, since the media is covering this. Then maybe he's not trying to pay off another boss. It probably wouldn't be a corrupt businessman either. Getting caught with that much stolen money is something they wouldn't want. If whoever is behind this robbery is getting the money for spending, than he'll be planning on spending it – most likely – in some kind of underground operation, not concerning mafia or big business. Black market merchandise. This cash will be handed over to someone who's used to having stolen goods pass through their hands on a daily basis."

"Interesting deductions," said L slowly, beginning to chew his thumbnail as he thought.

"But it's all based on assumption," said Near, curled up on the floor playing jacks with a red bouncy ball. "The deductions are interesting, certainly, but they only cover one very small branch of this case. It covers only one possibility. We cannot automatically expect the mafia to be involved in every crime in LA. There are plenty of gangsters and thugs here, and this city is a crowded place. It isn't so very unlikely that there are people here who know how to hack. What I find even more interesting than your deductions, Mihael, is the fact that you seem so adamant in assuming this is mafia work."

"What makes you think I'm adamant?" I said, frowning.

"You've thought into this very deeply. You've analyzed things on such a level that it seems you already have a very strong suspect in this particular case, as well as their reasons for it. Is that true?"

I nodded, immediately feeling resistant to answering him so easily, agreeing with his words. "It's true."

"Ah. So who do you suspect?"

"Jeremiah Rost."

"The same man who is after you?" I nodded again, and Near caught the red ball in his hand with a snap. "Why would Jeremiah need this money?"

"I don't know. He has connections everywhere in the underground to get things he needs, and that stuff doesn't come cheap."

"What would he need Mihael?"

I huffed irritably. "I don't know! Fancy Italian rugs? Look Near, I don't know what the guy is doing, I'm only guessing. Our best bet, if it's him, is that he's after more weapons. It would be bad if he found out where I'm staying, because he has access to massive firepower. Explosives, more specifically."

"You believe he would attempt to blow up HQ?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"You say Rost has connections," Near glanced at me sharply. "Could he have gotten a hacker through them?"

I stiffened a bit. I didn't want to bring up my suspicions about Matt to them. I'd keep the investigation into his status to myself. "Maybe he could. Jeremiah had his own business, I had mine. He kept a lot to himself, and didn't even share everything with the family."

"Still, even with good 'connections' one has to pay a price for goods. Hackers of this caliber don't come cheap, surely. What is the purpose in spending an enormous amount of money to hire someone to get you back an enormous amount of money? You interestingly did not calculate that into your deductions."

He was suspicious of me. I could tell he was trying to corner me in. I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. "I overlooked it then." I glared back at him, daring him to challenge me again. He brushed off my defiance carelessly, going back to his solitary game, and I glowered in my chair.

"While we cannot completely overlook the robbery as a possible part of the serial killing case, I don't believe it should be focused on too greatly, for now," said L. "We still have no solid evidence that Jeremiah is involved in the killings at all, though he is our greatest suspect."

"Let's concentrate on finding Jeremiah's location," said Near. "If we can get him under surveillance, we may be able to close the case by catching him in the act. Perhaps we can locate a few of his black market dealers as well, and see if any of them have received a large sum of money from him lately. Did you perhaps know any of his connections Mihael?"

I lied. "No. Like I said, he kept to himself."

"Very well. Thank you for your help Halle. You will receive a check in a few days time."

…

Every phone in HQ was wired to record conversations, and I couldn't help but feel that was because of me. I didn't know what exactly Near expected me to try, but I suppose calling illegal weaponry suppliers in the middle of the night would count as something he was trying to prevent. I'd managed to stop the recording device on one of the phones, but it would still keep an internal record of every number I called. I decided to risk it regardless, and dialed in the number, hoping it would still hook me up to the right place.

"Wayard residence," said the voice that answered, a husky woman's voice. Helen. Good, they still lived in the same place.

"Hey, I heard your man can hook me up some sweet stuff. I need something with pop, ya' know? I'm looking to paint a few walls red, so what do ya' have for me?"

"Agh, who is this bastard?" she sounded disgusted. I grinned.

"Who do you think, baby?"

I'd never heard a woman cuss as good as Helen could. She said a good amount of colorful words before launching into anything that would come near conversational English sentences. "Damn you Mello, lazy bastard, I'd thought they put you away for good."

"I'm a lucky man Helen. I've got connections in good places. Miss me?"

"Like hell. These streets haven't been the same without you strutting around your leathered up ass. Where you been?"

"That's confidential information. Is Vinny there?"

"Yeah. Hey VIN!" She yelled without bothering to cover the phone. "Get down here! It's Mello calling! What do ya' mean ya' don't know who the hell that is? The cocky blond bastard who worked with Rod!"

There were approaching footsteps, a bit more swearing thrown around, and suddenly a male voice greeted me, "Vincent here."

"Hey Vinny. Been a long time. You still in the business?"

"Yeah, yeah. You've got a lot of nerve calling here. You know Jeremiah is out for your blood?"

"I know. That's part of the reason I called. I need to know where I can find him."

There was a brief hesitation before his answer. "How would I know where he is?"

"I'm not stupid," I said. "You're meeting him soon right? Or you've already met him, and you're having your boys deliver him some goods soon right? Somewhere around the range of a million dollars in said goods?"

I waited for his answer, and when it came I knew I'd struck the target dead on. "Keep talking Mello. You're treading deep water here, and it's getting deeper. You better say something I'll like."

"Then I'll get right down to the good part. I have fifty grand, in cash, with your name on it. You know, just a little upfront payment."

"And what do you get?"

"To see my old pal Vinny again. Have a nice conversation somewhere quiet. Maybe we can get around to discussing where Jeremiah will be collecting those goods of his. If we happen to get to that part, there's a lot more than fifty grand in store."

"How am I supposed to trust you? Jeremiah has every right to want to shoot your brains out after the stunt you pulled. How do I know you're not working with the cops?"

"Vincent, I was put away for life," I said. "I can't legally walk these streets. But I have friends in higher places than the mafia and the police combined, and they got me out. I'm on a short leash here. Your security is mine. And you know I do everything I can for my own security. Look, you're the one with the firepower. Meet me in a tank if you want. But this is real important. I'm not asking you to be directly involved. A slip of the tongue will do. I just need to know where I can find Jeremiah."

There was a long silence on the other end, then, "The docks behind the West Side shipping company warehouses. Tomorrow, 10:45 pm. You better bring the green, otherwise you'll be choking on red, got it?"

I grinned. "See you then, Vin."

…

Of course, the only way that meeting was going to go through was if I told L and Near about it, and I would hopefully still be able to maintain control of it after that. The important thing was I'd arranged it my way, with neither of them breathing down my neck. Also, considering the nature of the meeting, it would be far too much of a risk to keep a tracker or recording device on me. If I needed to act on my own once I was there, I could probably do so.

"I managed to get in contact with Jeremiah's weapons supplier last night," I said, when we met the next morning over our version of breakfast. I was the only one eating a real meal; Near was picking at a piece of bread, and L was eating a brown sugar muffin with strawberry jam. Neither of them looked surprised at the news, and I would have been concerned if they did. We all did our share of lying around here, and both of them had to have known I was lying yesterday. "He agreed to meet me behind the West Side warehouses, near the docks, 10:45 tonight. Apparently, Jeremiah has recently invested a large sum of money in weaponry, and this guy, Vincent, is getting the stuff delivered to him. I can get Jeremiah's location, but it's going to cost us."

"Very well," said L, and Near frowned.

"I would prefer if you didn't use our case for your own private agenda, Mihael," he said. "I won't protest this meeting, but whatever it is you're doing, please put our work first, ahead of any…matters…you may need to take care of, emotional or otherwise."

"Of course," I said, my voice tense. I wasn't going to deny that I had a "private agenda", as long as they allowed me to do what needed to be done. Near wasn't the only one who had something to say to me on the matter, however. After we'd eaten, L came up to my room to speak with me.

"Mihael-kun, I understand there's an aspect of this case that is bothering you, particularly concerning Jeremiah," he said. "I respect that you have a right to your own business, however, I need to know honestly: will it interfere with the case?"

L had a tendency to get really close to you. At the moment, he was barely inches from my face. "It won't interfere."

"Are you sure? Will this matter keep you from pulling the trigger if you need to, or passing vital information to us?"

I had to think hard about that one. If it came down to it, could I kill Matt? I didn't even know if it was really him, and if it was, I didn't know if he'd changed. If I had to make a decision between my life or his, which would I choose?

"Hopefully, it won't," I said at last. "I'm still willing to go far."

"But not as far as you could?"

"Maybe not."

L backed off a bit, allowing me some breathing room. "Alright. I'll still allow you to follow through with the meeting, but please make your survival top priority. Even if it means sacrificing your emotional well being. You didn't hesitate to kill in the past. I'm rather curious who it is that has your sympathy now."

I didn't reply, though he waited for an answer. He probably hadn't truly expected one. I'd already made it clear enough that I was keeping this matter to myself. He left me without another word after about a minute, and I lay back on the bed, closing my eyes. If my life depended on putting a bullet through Matt's head…would I let myself die?


	5. Chapter 5

By 10:00 pm, I was on the move. Even at this hour the city streets were crowded, with the partiers and low-riders cruising in the neon lights of clubs and restaurants. Music was being pumped loud from nearly every car, friends were yelling to each other from the sidewalks and even opposite sides of the road. Night was the time for LA's young, the teens and college students, and I blended right in. I'd dressed for the night, I had the corvette's top down, and I pumped the music so loud the whole car vibrated with every beat.

But as I approached my destination, the streets quieted down to just a few cars. Only the brave and well-armed walked these dark parts, thugs patrolling their turf and drug dealers waiting for clients. When I reached the gates for the West Side shipping company, there was no one within sight. No cars were approaching, no lights were on, so I sat back in my seat, took out my gun (a new automatic), and waited.

Five minutes later, I saw three figures approaching from between the warehouses. These weren't mafia guys, just as Vincent wasn't. They weren't quite gangsters either, but they weren't your average Joes. They unlocked the gate and had me drive the car in, then had me step out as they searched me. They had me leave the gun and my cell phone in the car, searched the briefcase I carried, then ran a metal-detector over me before I was cleared, and they led me back toward the docks.

Five more guys were waiting there, along side a nice Ferrari and a SUV. I quickly recognized the man beside the Ferrari, looking as much like a soldier as ever.

"Vincent, it's been a long time," I said, as he approached me and shook my hand. Whenever I found myself without a gun I got a little pissed about my height, and Vincent made that worse. The guy was 6' 3" and probably around 250 pounds, a massive force of solid muscle with a machine gun strapped to his back. I hated having to look up at people.

"Mello," he nodded, as he looked over my scar curiously. He chuckled darkly. "I sell you explosives, and the next time I see you half your face is melted. Coincidence?"

"You play with fire and you get burned," I shrugged, knowing he understood that better than anyone. The man had scars all over his face.

"You got the money then?" he said, and I handed over the briefcase.

"Fifty thousand, in cash, as promised," I said, and he handed one of his men the money to be counted.

"When do I get the rest?" he said.

"After Jeremiah's location is confirmed. Do you have it?"

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it over to me. "If I don't have that money in two days, it won't be only Jeremiah who's after you. And you better know I'll blow up the whole damn city if that's what it takes to find you."

"I'm a man of my word," I said. "The money will be delivered, as long as this information is accurate."

Vincent nodded curtly, and I turned to go. I was escorted all the way back to my car as well, and as I got in the driver's seat and pulled out the gate, I couldn't help but grin. Vinny was my kind of guy.

…

I parked the car once I was back on the main strip, where if someone tried anything with me there would at least be witnesses. I unfolded the paper Vincent had handed me, looking over the scrawled writing.

_Mayflower Hotel_

_Go around back if you want to get into the club. There'll be bouncers at the door, so you better have a lot of money or a lot of good looks if you want to get in. They don't like to see any guns._

_My boys will be there around 11:00, and either Jeremiah or one of his guys will be there to pick up the shipment. _

_I want the rest of the payment in two days, and it better be at least 100 grand._

Beneath that was an address, and the name of the club, The White Tiger. I frowned. Why deliver a shipment of illegal weapons in such a public place? This didn't sound like mafia work, just like the bank robbery. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. Jeremiah was just out for revenge, not to get respect in the mafia.

I glanced at my watch. I had about an hour until three, and I started driving again. I knew my way around LA well, so I wouldn't have a problem finding the place. I wondered if I should call L and Near to update them, but it occurred to me that they might try to send back-up along with me. I could handle this myself and I didn't want anyone else interfering. I left my cell on the seat, and if they called they weren't going to get an answer.

The Mayflower Hotel wasn't the nicest place. It was three stars, bordering on two. It wasn't the kind of place travelers would want to bring their families to stay. The only people who stayed here were those who'd found a girl at a nearby club but didn't like her enough to take her home for the night. It was a place for impersonal one-night stands. I parked in the front lot and set the alarm, but braced myself to probably be rimless by the end of night. I tucked my gun in my jacket and made my way to the back, where, as promised, two bouncers waited by the back door. I slipped them both a hundred, and they let me in without a problem. The club was underground, basically in the hotel's basement, a dimly lit place where rap music pounded hard and the furniture was all black and white. I quickly felt adrenaline building, the excitement of an atmosphere supercharged with alcohol, drugs, and lust getting to my head. The flashing lights, the pounding music…I loved all of it. It was a stage ready and waiting for me, but I lay low, staying close to the shadows and avoiding the entangled couples that were oblivious to everything but their own hormones.

I took up a vantage point near the bar, scanning the dark booths for Jeremiah. I finally spotted him in a far corner of the club, his arm slung around some sluttish woman's bare shoulders, looking tipsy. Besides that, three men sat at the same booth, two of which I didn't recognize, but the third had red hair and was distracted with a PSP. I couldn't see his eyes, as they were hidden once more behind dark glasses, but I didn't need to. I had seen all I needed to. Matt was alive.

It was tempting to drag him out the door right then, but common sense told me I couldn't dare to attempt such a thing. I was relieved, feeling higher on excitement than any drugs, legal or otherwise, could have gotten me. But at the same time I was furious. Why the hell was he working with the guy who wanted to kill me? Why hadn't he tried to find me, contact me, anything?

I needed to talk to him, but I couldn't just go up to him straight out. I hadn't quite expected the delivery to take place tonight, so I wasn't as prepared as I would have liked to be. I would have come in disguise if I could have, but for now sunglasses alone had to suffice.

The bouncers at the door may not have wanted to see guns, but no one in the club seemed adverse to it. Everyone who had them was keeping their firearms in plain sight, so I saw no point in hiding mine. I took off my jacket and placed the gun under the waistline of my pants, right behind my belt buckle. I never carried a holster, so this was the most convenient place, though it often earned me looks that I didn't appreciate.

I glanced back at Jeremiah once more. The guy was bordering on being drunk, but he still had a sharp edge to his eyes, an alertness that was too risky to be allowed to remain. He may not have been cut out for the big-time in the mafia, but he was street-smart and knew how to handle himself. He knew better than to get drunk when in his position, especially considering what he was here for.

But if Jeremiah was still his old self, then he still had his old weaknesses. If I remembered correctly, and I was sure I did, then he'd do just about anything to get a woman who played hard-to-get. I turned my attention to the bar, surveying those sitting there, and found a brunette in red sitting alone who seemed like a good candidate. I made my way over casually, taking a seat beside her, and she glanced over, her eyes drawn to the gun and lingering there, before rising up to look me in the face.

"Bad night to be single isn't it?" I said, making sure I kept any hint of a come-on out of my voice. I didn't want her getting the wrong idea about me.

She hesitated a moment to say anything to me, looking a bit uncomfortable, then said, "Yeah. But I think I've had my fill of trying for anything serious. I swear my last guy was the worst bastard that ever walked the face of the earth. Men and their promises." She rolled her eyes bitterly.

"Honey, I know what you mean," I said, sighing heavily. I lounged back against the bar, letting my legs cross femininely. Come on, girl, you can talk to me. I'm no threat to you, I'm not after you. "Trying for the long-term just isn't worth it. But you look like a girl who could use a little cheering up. Money always helps a sad mood, doesn't it?"

She looked at me with new interest. "What did you have in mind?"

I pointed over to Jeremiah's table. "See that handsome dark guy there?" She nodded, her eyes falling on Jeremiah. "He's loaded, and his wallet is always loose. He likes to spend money; it's how he brags to his women…and his men." I flashed the jewels I'd put on my fingers just before leaving the car, watching her eyes widen enviously. "But I don't suppose him being bi would really matter to you. You don't want to bother with him for too long anyway. Just long enough to get some of this ice, huh? He left me for that slut of a woman over there, but she doesn't deserve these pricey things. I don't care so much that he dumped me; it's just that it was for _her_. You're far more deserving of his valuable attentions. So, would you do me a favor? I'm sure it would be so easy for you, you looking how you do. You could win him over real easy. Just get him away from the slut."

She smiled in anticipation, glancing at my jewels again. "Sure. I'll have him in thirty minutes, no problem."

"Good," I got up from my seat. "Have fun." I left her, taking a seat at a table on the far side of the room, waiting for her to work her magic. She ordered him a drink, right before getting up to go solo to the dance floor, moving like some kind of exotic dancer, only she looked a bit more like she belonged stripping on a Las Vegas stage. A drink to make him feel good, a dance to make him feel better. She knew how to do it right. A stupid woman to seduce a man who, while not so stupid, soon would be on account of his own hormones. Perhaps one of the reasons I liked clubs was because everyone in them made me realize how much better I was than them. They reminded me of animals, lusting after sex blindly without a thought as to who it was with or how anyone else felt about it. They were slaves to their own bodies, and it was pathetic

I glanced at my watch. About thirty minutes until the shipment was scheduled to arrive, but Jeremiah was coming along fine. He'd downed his drink, and had ordered another, still watching the brunette as she danced for him. The previous woman he'd been sitting with had already left, and in a few more minutes, Jeremiah was up from the table, making his way out onto the floor. The brunette flipped her hair, slipping back coyly into the crowd, teasing him, and with him otherwise distracted, my chance had come.

I took a seat at the bar once again, motioning over the guy that worked there. He came over, drying a glass with a white rag, and said, "How can I help you?"

I motioned over to Jeremiah's table. "You see that red-head over there? Get him chocolate vodka on the rocks, on me." I handed over the payment, then took off my rosary, and gave that to him as well. "Wrap that around the glass. He'll know who it's from."

The man nodded, going back to start on the drink. I waited until he was nearly done, then said, "Where's your bathroom?"

He directed me back to it, and I found it fortunately empty. I waited against the wall opposite the door, seating myself beneath a massive scrawl of red and yellow graffiti and taking out my gun. I was the first thing that would be seen by anyone who walked through that door, and I didn't have to wait long for exactly who I wanted to see to show up.

He opened the door slowly – perhaps cautiously – but he had his sunglasses off when he stepped inside, baring his brown eyes. They widened as he saw me, and he began to shake his head in disbelief, still walking toward me.

"Mello…you really are out…how did you-"

I brought up the gun, my finger on the trigger, aiming it directly between his eyes. "What. The. Hell." He frowned, looking confused, but he didn't approach me any further. "Just _what _do you think you're doing?" He opened his mouth as if to speak, but apparently couldn't think of anything to say, because he shut it again without making a sound. I stared at him expectantly, waiting.

"Look, Mel, I really did try to contact you," he said at last. "I guess that's what you're angry about, but I really did try, I swear-"

"_Really_?" I got to my feet, advancing on him until I pressed the muzzle directly against his head. He winced slightly at the metal's contact, but I found my hand shaking a bit at close range. All these months, trying to push him out of my mind because I'd thought he was dead. I'd never forgiven myself for it, I'd suffered through the guilt for so long…and yet he was fine and well, and I hadn't heard _a word _from him! "So you tried so very hard to contact me, but when you couldn't, you decided to go and play tech-boy to some mafia freak? You wanted to be able to work for a mobster again, is that it?"

He grinned, an entirely inappropriate thing to do with a gun pressed to his head. "You've got it wrong Mello. I really did try. It isn't that easy to get in contact with someone who's in prison for life, especially when you're not innocent yourself. I didn't want to risk getting put behind bars too. But honestly, I tried-"

"And Jeremiah? Mind explaining that?"

"I found out you got out. I couldn't figure out how you could have, but the only thing I could think of was the mafia. Maybe they managed to pay off the right people…" He was starting to look nervous, probably because my expression was telling him how stupid he'd been. "I got in contact with some of the guys you used to work with…the few that were still alive…and Jeremiah said it wasn't him that got you out, but that he was trying to find you. He said if I worked with him we'd probably be able to find you quickly, because he already had an idea where you were."

"And you weren't the slightest bit suspicious about him trying to kill me? About him murdering bosses left and right as a freaking threat to me? You didn't take a damn minute to think about that?"

"I honestly don't know anything about that. Look, I'm just happy to see you; I thought you were gone for good." He was smiling honestly now, not just a grin anymore, and I had to struggle to keep myself from losing my anger and throwing my arms around him instead. He couldn't honestly tell me he didn't know what Jeremiah was doing, there was no way I was going to believe that pack of lies. Did he think I was that stupid? I just couldn't understand why…

"Mello, put the gun down," he said. "You aren't going to shoot me, so stop acting so tough blondie and give it up. You know you're happy to see me."

"Bastard," I moved the gun to press above his ear so I could get closer to his face. "You think you're going to get away with this so easy? I'm taking you in. I'm arresting you, right here."

"You have the authority to do that?"

I glared at him, "_Yes_, I do."

"Right," he held out his wrists, "Cuff me then."

Damn it. Why would he do this to me? It made no sense for him to work with Jeremiah! Was he telling the truth? How could he honestly have not known anything? If only he hadn't been gone so long, if only I wasn't feeling so stupidly happy that he was alive. I couldn't possibly really believe he'd betray me, but I couldn't break down now. I had him backed up against the door, staring him down as if I actually expected that to get me anywhere. I could stay angry all I wanted, but that wasn't going to change the fact that he wasn't the least bit afraid of me. He was one of the few people I'd met that could listen to me yell death threats all day and not be intimidated.

"Come on," he said. "We both know you just don't want to say you missed me too. You know I'd never betray you. If Jeremiah is really trying to kill you, I'll go out there and end this right now. Just give me the gun. Maybe once he's dead you'll feel more like greeting me properly."

I sighed heavily, backing off a bit. "I can't let you do that. We need more proof. Shooting him doesn't solve the case."

"Oh, so there's a case now?" He chuckled softly. "And this 'proof' thing? You sound like Near."

I shoved the gun against his head again. "Don't say that!" I was really torn here. I didn't want to let myself give in to these stupid emotions, though it was true I had missed him. I had to look at this logically, I had to calm down. I had to be able to think, to examine this all from a completely unbiased standpoint, but I was getting too distracted with anger and relief. I was so on edge I felt ready to snap, but whether that snap would result in a gunshot or some other kind of ridiculous breakdown I honestly couldn't say. It was all so stupid and wretchedly _weak_.

"Mello-" I don't know what Matt was planning on saying, but he was quickly interrupted. Someone tried to open the door and in the process slammed it against Matt's back, shoving him against me and knocking us both to the floor. At that, I practically lost it.

"Get out!" I yelled, aiming my gun at the unsuspecting drunk who had opened the door. Matt had sat up but didn't seem as if he planned on actually getting off me, which was really inconvenient because I wanted to throw that guy out with my own hands. But he was already stumbling back out the door, and I put a bullet through the wall beside his head for good measure, just to get him moving a bit faster. Matt shook his head.

"You let yourself get way too upset, Mel," he said.

"Oh shut up. You think I've been having a good time the last year? You think it's been easy for me? _I_ haven't been living it up with the mafia. If I tried that again I'd probably be shipped back to prison, for good this time. No, I've had to be avoiding them! I've had to watch my back every time I go outside, because Jeremiah is waiting to put a bullet through me!" I began to struggle a bit, trying to get him off me. "Move your ass."

"Give it up," said Matt, grabbing my wrist that held the gun and twisting it slightly, so that it hurt just enough to make me drop the gun. "Calm down and quit throwing a tantrum."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum!"

He smirked down at me. "Oh really? I know you well enough Mello. You get too upset about stuff and then you can't think straight. So chill. And quit being so damn trigger-happy." He kicked the gun out of my reach, sending it skittering across the tile to strike the wall. I glared up at him, and he grabbed my other wrist before I could make any attempts to hit him. I tried to get him in the back with my knees, but that got tiring real fast, so I settled for cussing him out until my frustration was spent.

"You going to behave?" he said, once I was lying silently. I rolled my eyes.

"You know me better than that. Honestly, do I _ever _behave?"

He grinned. "I guess not." He let go of my wrists and folded his arms, looking down at me expectantly.

"What?"

"You know what, Mel." He reached down and flicked my forehead before I could slap his hand away. "Greet me properly."

"Hey."

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" I snapped. "I said 'hey'. Your greeting, idiot! I don't have time for this crap. I can't let Jeremiah find me here. I just came to…to…" What I had I come to do again? Near, L, and I hadn't counted on the shipment being delivered tonight, but they'd sent a video camera with me just in case, to capture the delivery on film if it happened. But I'd left the camera in the car. I'd come in for myself. To…to see…him.

Damn it.

"You came to what, Mello?" said Matt. "Calm down and think a minute, would you? You're driving me crazy. Don't open your mouth until you know what you're going to say."

Matt was usually an easygoing guy, but that stopped if I was in a bad mood and he had to set me straight. It was right back to how it used to be between us for him. I really wished I could snap back like that. But too much had happened on my part to just take his reappearance as if it was nothing. I was wishing I could have some of those anti-depressants again. They put me to sleep like nothing else.

"So what's the deal?" Matt said, after several minutes of watching me attempt to calm down through regulated breathing and happy thoughts. I gave a summary of it, the shortest story possible without leaving out the important stuff. He got off me at last, and I got up slowly to sit against the wall beside him. He had one hand tangled in his hair as he thought, and I glanced at my watch. Hardly five minutes to 11:00.

"Mello," Matt said at last. "I don't know what's going on, but I've been seeing a different story than what you're saying is fact."

"Then he's lying to you."

"It's not just his words. Jeremiah has never hid his weapons purchases from me before. He's even sent me to pick up some of the stuff for him. He didn't say anything about a delivery coming in tonight. And the murders…..I don't think that could have been him either. He'd hear about them on the news and get mad. If he's after you for killing mafia members, why would he do the same thing himself, just as a threat?"

"If there's no shipment, then why rob the bank?" I said. "I got in contact with Vincent. He said he received the payment and is delivering here at 11:00."

Matt shook his head slowly. "Mello…something isn't right here. That money was already spent, all of it."

I went cold. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, nothing was paid to Vincent. Jeremiah ordered all of it to be given to his meth dealer. He owed the guy a lot of money and was getting guns shoved in his face left and right because of it. There's no shipment."

Then had Vincent lied just to get money out of me? But how would he know where Jeremiah would be tonight? It's not like he tracked the guy wherever he went, it wasn't his business. Then what was going on?

I got to my feet, quickly collecting my gun. "We need to leave. Now."

"Mello, wait!" Matt stopped me just before I reached the door. "What do you want me to do? I want to come with you-"

"I don't know. I can't think." Something was wrong here. Everything I'd assumed had been wrong, right down to the last detail. It was all far too much in Jeremiah's favor, too convenient. My first instinct was to take Matt with me of course, but I would be losing a valuable source of inside information if I did. But perhaps it was too dangerous to send him back after meeting him. Had Jeremiah been planning on us making contact? How far ahead had he planned?

"Look, I need to know if Jeremiah is still here," I said. "Go check for him out there, even outside if you have to. If you run into him and he's not leaving, wait a while, then say you left your PSP in the bathroom and come back. If he is leaving, wait until he's outside, then use the same excuse to come back in. Got it?"

He nodded and left the room, and I locked myself into the farthest stall to wait, thinking hard. What was going on? Had this all been a set-up? But what could he be attempting to do? He'd got me where he wanted me, but this place was public. What was he going to try? I hated having to wait in hiding like this, but I didn't know how far Jeremiah had gone with this. He could have a dozen of his own men waiting around the club, prepared to shoot on sight. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't been able to meet up with Matt, but it was good to have him back. With that thought, I almost immediately felt a prick of guilt. I'd finally found out he was alive after all this time, and I'd gone right back to using him. The last time I'd done this he'd nearly been killed. Was I prepared to risk his death all over again? I recalled what L had said to me earlier, his questions about whether or not this would interfere with what I had to do. I knew I couldn't let emotional issues get in the way of solving the case…but I wasn't an emotionless guy, as L and Near seemed to be. I'd stepped on a lot of people for my own sake in the past, but Matt wasn't just any guy. He was more important somehow, and I couldn't disregard his life as if it were nothing. Why? Why did he make me feel that weakness? If I wasn't prepared to do anything, how could I ever get where I needed to? How could the case be solved if I wasn't prepared to make any sacrifices necessary?


	6. Chapter 6

Matt returned about four minutes later, calling my name softly as he entered the bathroom. I left the stall to meet him, still holding my gun drawn. It wasn't nearly safe enough to risk putting it away.

"He left," he said. "He and the two other guys he works with. But there's another guy here, hanging around the front of the club. I know Jeremiah has talked to him before. I asked where Jeremiah went, and he said that he was supposed to tell me that J said we'd meet tomorrow, at his house. Apparently, Jeremiah couldn't stay because he got a girl he was dying to get home. I don't know why Michael and Jose left too though…"

"He's got something planned, there's no doubt of that," I said. "It'd probably be best if we got out of here."

"What about the other guy? I didn't see a gun on him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have one."

"I know, I know." I paced several times, from the wall to the sink. The door opened again, but the guy changed his mind quick when I waved the gun at him and told him to get out. We'd have security after us soon if I kept this up, but with luck we would be out of here in minutes. Hopefully quicker than minutes. I wanted to be out in seconds.

Wait…the security guards! They were exactly what I needed, an armed escort out of this place. "Matt," I said, my thoughts running fast. "Where do you usually stay for the night?"

"Jeremiah's place," he said. "He was letting me have a room there, but he doesn't always welcome me in. When he doesn't, there's a hotel where I usually stay."

"Alright, that's good. Write down the hotel's address for me." He wrote it out on a paper towel, nearly tearing it with his pen in the process. Beneath it, he scrawled out a cell phone number, one I didn't recognize.

"I don't have my old phone number anymore," he said. "If you need to get a hold of me, call this one. Jeremiah can't tap my phone, so it should be safe enough."

I nodded. "Alright. Now, you need to leave. Go to the hotel and get yourself a room. I'll call you later."

He frowned, hesitating. "What are you going to do?"

"I have a plan," I said. "I'll be fine. But you need to go. If anything goes wrong, I don't want…I don't want to have to worry about you being in the way."

"Right. I wouldn't want to get in your way, Mello." I glared at him rather weakly. Jeez, Matt, don't make this harder on me. It wasn't like I _wanted _to send him away. But for now, it was best. It guaranteed him safety, at least for a while. Not only that, but I hoped that once he was away I would be able to think straight. I was far too distracted with him here, wanting to – as he put it – "greet him properly", but there had hardly even been time to explain what was going on. I needed time away from him to decide what to do. Most specifically, I needed to decide if I should tell L and Near about him.

"It was good to see you again," he said, backing toward the door. "Don't get killed, alright? I can only stand to lose you once."

"Come on, Matt," I waved my hand in a careless gesture. "I don't die easy."

"These guys don't try to kill easy either. But I'll trust you. You'll call later." He turned to leave, opened the door, then stopped just short of stepping out. "Oh, I should give this back." He reached into his pocket, pulling out my rosary and holding it out to me. "I guess you'll need them. You know…for holy protection or whatever."

I put the beads back around my neck, glad to have them back. These things sure would have an interesting story to tell, if only they could talk.

I thought I was fully prepared to let Matt leave. It was time for business anyway, I didn't have time for sappy junk. But seeing him turn his back to me and begin to walk out made me feel…panicked. I couldn't let him go again yet, because…because…

"Wait!" I grabbed his shoulder, jerking him around to face me and pressing him against the wall. "I never said hello properly."

I'm pretty sure Matt and I had different opinions on what _exactly _qualified as a proper hello in this situation, but if our last good-bye had been proper enough with a kiss, then why not a hello? Back then he'd done me the courtesy of not forcing himself on my mouth, so I did him the same. But I wasn't about to settle for a kiss on the cheek. I got him just below his lips, and I couldn't help that I nipped him a bit. I wasn't used to the soft affection he gave; I didn't know how to return it, and if I tried I knew I'd feel stupid. So I went ahead and used my teeth just a bit, bordering on touching his lower lip, before rubbing the side of my face against his, moving my head back and my arms around him until I managed what was something like an embrace. I gave him one last nip on the ear before I pulled away, just to remind him that I wasn't about to get all cuddly. He stared at me a moment, then nodded and mumbled, "That works."

I smirked and let him go, watching him stumble a bit as he opened the door again. He glanced back at me before he shut the door, smiling a bit, "You freak. I'd like to know where the hell you learned _that_ was proper."

"I don't die easy Matt," I shrugged. "I don't kiss easy either. I'll call."

I gave him ten minutes to be out of the building and away before I acted, and during that time I realized that he hadn't smelled like cigarettes. He'd smelled…minty. Like gum. Was he trying to quit? Surprises, surprises. They never ceased in this city did they? But that was what I liked about LA. It kept me on my toes, and I was more than happy to return the favor. Dangerous as this all was, I was feeling happy right then, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't want to live life any other way than this. I brought the rosary cross to my lips, sent up a whispered – half-genuine – prayer of thanks, and swiftly fired off every bullet into the bathroom walls.

The guards would hear it….five….four….they'd come running….three….two….and I would have a safe escort out of the building….one…queo the guards. They burst in with their weapons drawn and I dropped the gun on command, letting them take me by the arms and lead me out through the crowd. I spotted the man that was surely who Matt had mentioned, standing in shades and dark clothes in a corner near the front of the club. He made it no secret that he watched me leave. He'd probably be shooting at my back the second he got the chance, so I had to make sure he didn't get it. I managed to keep my feet as the guards threw me out, then immediately began walking, then running, toward where I'd parked the car…

Which was supposed to be at the front of the building. I'd parked in front, and walked to the back. Yet my corvette was sitting right here in the little back lot. I knew it was mine because of the license number, but I hesitated to approach it. Who the heck had moved it? Jeremiah? He'd probably rigged the whole thing up with explosives…but wasn't that a little obvious? Why move the thing?

I approached it carefully, watching my back for gunmen, though I didn't see any. I pulled out my keys and found the door still locked and the car undamaged. Nothing seemed to be different, except for the fact that it had been moved. I checked under the hood, just in case, but I didn't find any explosives, not even when I grabbed a flashlight from the trunk and looked under the car as well. I got up from the ground, and as I did, I caught sight of a figure making his way up the alley.

It was the man who had been watching me in the club, walking briskly away from me,. He was on a cell phone, and jeez, that guy was in a hurry. What was he going so fast for? But if he wanted out, then it only strengthened my resolve that I needed to move fast as well. I got in the car, jammed in the keys…and the engine refused to start. There wasn't a sound, not the most miniscule click to let me know the car had even an ounce of life in it. I didn't have time for this! I got out of the car, heading for a six foot wall to my right. The more boundaries between me and the club the better. I had the feeling something was going to happen, and I didn't want to be around to see it.

And something _did _happen, right as I reached the top of the wall. I saw the flash of flames out of the corner of my eye and shoved myself off onto the other side, right as I felt the heat of an explosion hit my back with all the force of a well-thrown brick. Bits of the wall crumbled around me, then the whole thing exploded in a shower of cracked concrete as three more explosions went off, one after another. The sound was like thunder, and it went on even after the explosions ceased. I dared to glanced out from beneath my arms, folded over my head, but I could hardly see a thing through all the dust and smoke.

I got to my feet, right as another small explosion sent tremors through the ground. I could hear people screaming, and could see only enough to realize that the Mayflower Hotel was gone, reduced to a pile of burnt rubble, the club and everyone in it crushed. Even behind the wall, at least fifty yards from the car, the explosions had still hit with a massive force, enough to break through the brick and send it flying hard enough to do damage to those in its way. My arms were raw and cut, bleeding from numerous places, and the heat of a minor burn that could have been much worse was over my right arm. I shook my head in disbelief. I'd expected gunshots, but not this. So he was really prepared to go this far?

The corvette was destroyed, the top ripped off and the insides still burning. It easily could have been me in those flames, if I hadn't been prepared to take a chance and leave the car. Caution wasn't going to get me anywhere in this game. I could view this as nothing less than a challenge to me, and I wasn't going to let it go unanswered.

* * *

Even if it hadn't been too far a distance to walk in order to get back to HQ, I wouldn't have gone. I went just a few blocks before renting myself a room in a little motel. I got some odd looks from the woman at the front desk, with ash and dirt covering my clothes and blood drying on my arms, but I didn't care. Let her think what she wanted. I had business to take car of.

I didn't bother to clean up before calling L. It had been hours since he'd heard from me, and I didn't want him to think I was on the run. I'm sure he had plenty of people he could send out to track me down. Once I got him on the line, I explained everything that had happened, providing every detail he demanded, until I felt as if I was going to lose my voice.

"Jeremiah must have expected you to make contact with the supplier," said L. "He was certainly a step ahead of us on this. As for you having made contact with Matt…that was your original and only _true _intention in going through with this, wasn't it?"

I answered in the affirmative, explaining how I had first thought I'd seen Matt during the party a few weeks ago. L went on, saying, "It's good that you didn't attempt to bring him with you. He can provide valuable information to us from the other side of this case. However, if Jeremiah truly had this all figured out, he may have planned on you making contact with Matt. Therefore, Matt's life may now be endangered. There is the risk that Jeremiah may attempt to use him against you. Seeing as he is not adverse to killing anyone as long as it hurts you, I think that a hostage situation may not be far off, and we must be prepared to face that. Also, please do not make any foolish decisions, Mihael-kun. We cannot afford rash actions at this time."

I clenched my teeth, frustrated. "Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, L. Jeremiah isn't going to go about this calmly and logically. He just took out a whole building and killed dozens, all to get at me. I can't just sit back and 'think logically' while he's blowing apart the city."

"Mihael," L's voice turned deathly serious. "I am not adverse to fighting hard. I'm willing to do the unexpected and the dangerous, but not the foolish. I do not trust you to do the first two without integrating the latter. _Do not act without consulting me first_."

I hung up furiously. It was never easy to take orders, even if it was from L, but at a time like this I simply couldn't take it. I didn't like working with others, unless they were underlings. I wanted to be able to handle things myself on a second's notice. I hated having to call back and forth to give reports and receive orders. I didn't have time to think things through. Jeremiah wasn't going to wait for me to sort everything out before he acted again. He'd send the whole of LA up in flames if he could, and I wasn't about to have Matt used against me. If I had to shoot Jeremiah point-blank in broad daylight and go back to jail for it, I wasn't about to lose this game.

My arms were beginning to sting from the cuts and burns, so I took with phone with me into the bathroom as I called Matt. He answered on the second ring.

"Mello? What happened? I saw the explosion on the news, jeez, I didn't know Jeremiah would-"

"Matt, shut up," I said. Cold water from the sink was beginning to ease the sting, and I held the phone between my face and shoulder as I spoke. I gave the quick story of what had gone down after he'd left, then said, "Look, I had to tell L about you."

There were several long seconds of silence before he said anything. "L? You're…in contact?"

"I'm working with him and Near on this case. They're the ones who got me out of prison. But I'm not a free man. I've been having to take orders from both of them, and I've about had enough of it. I'm sick of waiting for orders and permission. I want this done my way."

"So…no waiting for proof?"

"I don't care if Jeremiah seems like a freaking angel to everyone else in the world, I'm putting a bullet through his head next chance I get."

I heard Matt chuckle a bit. "That's more like you. Looks like I'll have to go back to keeping you from going completely insane, as usual. Also, I've thought about it, and I think Jeremiah must have planned on us meeting up. Explosives take time to set up, so it isn't smart to decide on a moment's notice where to put them. The easiest way to get you would have been to rig your car to explode and it wouldn't have required Jeremiah to bring in that other guy. Of course, rigging the car takes a bit more skill than setting up the explosives around the building, and I'm J's man for stuff like that. But he chose to move the car instead, putting you closer to the source of the explosion and making it more likely to hit you, but also making it look more suspicious. He chose to take that risk instead of mentioning any of it to me and trying to get me to mess with the car. Us meeting had already been figured into his plan. That means he'll probably be counting on us working together. Why would he let me anywhere near important information, knowing that? Not only that, but Jeremiah is honestly flat-broke right now. How could he afford the explosives?"

I leaned back against the bathroom wall. Nothing was adding up here. It had seemed at first that Jeremiah had simply outsmarted me with that explosion, but, looking at it now, even that didn't make much sense. There were still so many questions, but no answers and no proof. Not that I needed any, but it was vexing me. There was something missing here, something I wasn't seeing.

"I can't figure it out," I said. "But we both know he's out to kill me, and that's all the information I need."

"What about L?" he said. "Is he going to let you?"

"It doesn't really matter to me what L says at this point. I have a gun, I can-" I cut off with a curse. I _didn't _have a gun. Mine had been confiscated at the club, as I'd been escorted out. I had a false ID, but I couldn't buy a gun in California without yet another license, one I'd never been given. When I'd told Matt earlier that I was on a short leash, I hadn't been joking. I wasn't allowed to carry more than twenty dollars in cash if ever I was allowed outside HQ, and I had no access to credit cards or bank accounts.

"Matt, you have a gun?"

"Yeah."

"I need it then. I'm ending this tonight."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Matt pulled up outside in the Camaro, and I left my room keys at the front desk, going out to meet him. I could tell he'd being trying to get the car fixed up to its former glory, but the hood was still riddled with bullet holes. Matt held out a gun to me as I got into the passenger seat, then pulled out onto the street, heading north. He was tense, far more serious than he usually was, and I said at last, "What's bothering you?"

"I hope you know I'm not letting you go back to jail again," he said, taking a sharp left turn. "After this is done, we're not staying in this city. I don't care where we go, but we aren't staying here, regardless of what L says."

I grinned. "A life on the run? Sounds fine to me. We can finally take this baby out for a drive in the desert right?"

He smiled at last. "Yeah. I forgot about that."

Jeremiah's house, when we reached it, was a dark place set back on a small property surrounded by an iron fence and filled with its own little forest of oak trees. There were no lights on in the house, and there was a chain around the gate, but it was easy enough to pick the lock. Matt said there weren't any dogs, and no security system, so getting in would only be a matter of slipping in a window or another lock-picking. But when we reached the front door, we found it, strangely, unlocked.

"You think he's even here?" I said softly. The house was dark, but it was too risky to turn on any lights or use a flashlight.

"His car was outside," said Matt from behind me. "Jeez, someone spilled something all over the floor." He made a noise of disgust, carefully avoiding the puddles of thick dark liquid on the wood floorboards. I frowned as I noticed it, then as I drew another breath, I caught the metallic, iron scent of blood.

My eyes followed the trail of liquid a little ways up the dark hall leading past the stairway to my right, falling at last upon a barely visible sprawled form, lying half in the hall and half in a side room. The blood was pooled around it and still flowing from it, and as I stepped closer, I saw long brown hair, soaked with blood.

"Does Jeremiah make a habit of killing the women he brings home?" I whispered. Matt had noticed the body as well, and he shook his head slowly.

"I don't think it was him that killed her, Mel." He took out his car keys, and, on the same key ring, a small pen light. He turned it on, shining it on the floor just above the brunette's head. Small words had been drawn there in blood.

_Sinners, what have you done?_

_Rebels, and all those who do wrong, cannot be allowed to live._

_Those who are impure must be destroyed_

_Who are you to go against our Lord's holy law?_

_Are you going to go on resisting rightful punishment?_

_Against me, you shall fall._

_Know this._

_I am true justice._

_Run while you can_

_All shall die._

_All._

_Die._

"That…that sounds like…" Matt glanced at me, hesitating to say what I was thinking myself.

"It sounds like Kira," I said. "It seems there's another player in this game." I started up the stairway, with Matt following close behind. I glanced back as he paused, reaching down to unstrap a knife from his boot and hold it drawn, before continuing upward.

The master bedroom was just to the left of the stairway, but I didn't need to enter it. I could see Jeremiah's body lying there from the doorway, a bullet hole in his head and chocolate spread across his mouth, his eyes fixed in a glassy stare. There was more writing at his feet, and I went forward solely to get a closer look at it.

_The laws shall be upheld._

_Heirs to our Lord's throne have arisen._

_Die, as all rebels must._

_Next comes our Lord's utopia._

"There's no reason for us to stay here," I said. "We need to leave."

We left the bodies where they lay. Maybe the murderer was still lurking there watching, perhaps he'd already gone. All the same, my watch turned to midnight as we were making our way back down the stairs, and Jeremiah Rost was dead as of May 10th.


	7. Chapter 7

I drove the Camaro as we left the property, both of us completely silent. Jeremiah's death answered some questions, but in such a way that it took us back to square one. We had nothing now. His death had not been a suicide, and I knew that because his body had stopped bleeding, while the woman's still had been. She'd therefore probably died after him. Also, there had been no gun beside him with which he could have shot himself. I suppose there was always the possibility of a double suicide, but I doubted that. Jeremiah wasn't the type of man who would give up his life like that. Then there was the possibility of the woman having killed him and then killed herself…but again, it was instinct, a gut feeling, telling me otherwise. What we'd just witnessed was a murder.

From that, it was pretty clear that Jeremiah hadn't been the one killing off the bosses. So if he hadn't done that, what _was _he responsible for? The bank robbery was a given, but what about destroying The White Tiger? He'd really been after me, I knew that, but how far had he _really _gone? How much of this was to be credited to our unknown challenger?

"Mello," Matt said, speaking at last. "You can't take me back to L."

I gripped the steering wheel hard. I wasn't in the mood to change my plans right now. I had to get back to HQ and discuss this. Though nothing had been taken from me by this, I truly felt as if I had lost, simply because I'd overlooked the possibility of a completely unknown person being involved. Why? Where had I gone wrong? I'd been set on Jeremiah because…because of Matt? Because Matt was with him? I'd been so set on it being a direct attack on me, something completely personal, and I'd simply assumed…

It was as Near said. It had all been assumption. Clever assumptions, sure, but that didn't change what they were. I'd wanted Matt to be involved, because I'd wanted to believe he was alive. I'd wanted an excuse to search for him, because I could never go do something simply because of emotional attachment. Perhaps emotions were what drove me, but they went in weird directions, taking me with them. Perhaps I could say my emotions were in-tune with my mind. They knew I couldn't show the weakness of attachment through relief, so when I'd met up with Matt again, they'd replaced relief with anger.

"Mello," Matt's voice was stronger this time, demanding my attention. "_Don't _take me to L."

We were hardly a mile from HQ. I didn't glance at him. "Why?"

"I don't want to be tied down to a profession. That's what would happen if you take me to him. He and Near will want me to help with cases, and I don't want that. If I refuse, they'll probably send me to prison. I'm free right now, and I like it this way."

"You're saying you want to go on being nothing," my voice was bitter, but it was only to keep me from blurting out that I didn't want to go back either. "Living a life that's worthless, meaningless. Achieving nothing." I swerved over to the side of the street and shoved open my door, getting out. "I can walk from here."

Matt slid into the driver's seat, looking at me out the window. "You can come with me Mello."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you're already tied down, and I'm offering to cut the ropes. Look, this has been your obsession your entire life. L, Near, detective work. You don't _like _it, it's not your passion. It's something you're doing because you've been trained to, not because you want to. You're always focusing on everyone else. It's really kind of bizarre, with your personality. You should be self-centered and egotistical. But you're not."

I clenched my teeth, leaning down against the car. "Oh really? So what am I then?"

Matt leaned against the other side of the door, putting his face closer to mine. "You're insecure. Insecurity is your whole being. You want to know how I know?"

"Shoot," I snapped, glaring.

"You're obsessed with perfection. You dress up in leather and carry around a gun to make yourself look tough. You like the attention people give you over it. You like to have them all stare and acknowledge you. You're working with L only because it _is _L, because you've been taught to seek his approval all your life. You were taught to want to impress him, that he was the only one who you _could _impress. That he was the only one that mattered. You even pray because you're seeking approval. And you've been so deprived your entire life, with no one bothering to ever tell you were good enough, or just love you for being you, that you don't know how to grant others the same thing. You don't know how to tell someone you like them."

"And what gives you that idea?"

He smirked. "Because your hello kiss was full of kink, that's why. That's not what I'm asking of you, and it never was. I'm not asking for anything. When I kissed you goodbye back then, I really meant it as a friend. I wasn't saying I want sex. I thought it was the last time I was ever going to see you. Jeez, even Bible guys kissed on the cheek, didn't they? You don't see that anymore. Nothing can ever be innocent, it's like the world is against affection. I'm not a complicated guy Mello. I don't have hidden agendas. I just don't think you should go on living like you do. Doing this isn't going to make you happy."

I huffed in frustration, mostly because everything he was saying was truth and the truth about myself tended to be things I didn't like to hear. I couldn't help that I didn't know how to kiss like he did. I just couldn't to the lovey-cuddly stuff. It was bizarre and foreign to me, something I'd never gotten so I didn't know how to return it. As for desperately seeking approval….well what did he know? He didn't know me so well as thought…I was not _desperate _for approval, or attention, or anything else. I just liked to get it when it was given. Perhaps at times I would give my all to earn it, but what was so bad about that?

"I'm perfectly happy," I said. "Besides, what do you expect me to do? Abandon the case, L, and Near? To what end? What purpose?"

Matt sighed heavily. "There _is no purpose _Mello! There doesn't always have to be one! Haven't ever just done something for the hell of it, for fun? All I'm really asking is that you honor your promise. We finished with Takada, that's over now. And you said that when it was over, you'd sit in the passenger seat, and chill, and just let me drive wherever the hell I want."

"I didn't say that! I said we could go drive in the desert, I didn't say any of that other junk."

We both glared at each other a moment, then Matt reached over to the passenger seat and picked up his gun, which I'd tossed there when I'd gotten out. "Okay, new development. Matt holds the gun, and Mello gets his ass in the car, _right now_." He pointed the firearm at me with cocky pride, a triumphant grin across his face. Cussing him out as I did, I stomped around to the passenger side, then slammed the door after I'd gotten in. He tapped to gun's muzzle playfully against my head once I'd sat down. "Relax, Mel. Don't be so tense, and don't be mad at me. I'm thinking of you."

"This is a _kidnapping_!" I snapped, glowering in my seat as he pressed down on the gas. We pulled away from the curb so fast the tires screeched, getting my adrenaline going. For fun, he'd said. Just do something for fun. There was a new idea.

"Whatever," he tucked the gun down within his own reach but out of mine. "Just deal with it. You need to quit being the boss for once anyway. You're always the one holding the gun. Maybe being kidnapped will be good for you."

"Yeah right. First police station I see, I'm getting you in one way or another. Don't laugh at me, bastard, you know I will!"

But he was already laughing, and it was too late to stop him. I swear, the only thing Matt ever found truly funny was me. Where other people would get scared and obey, he'd just laugh. He'd _really _laugh. I don't know why, but I guess he just saw through the facade. We both knew he wasn't going to shoot me, and that I certainly wasn't going to try to get him arrested. We both knew L and Near could do well enough without me, and would probably have the whole case cracked in a few weeks. We also both knew I was happy enough to sit in the passenger's seat, lean my head back and close my eyes, and just let myself daydream for a while.

After all, this was LA, and here, the unexpected was around every corner. We wouldn't be here for much longer, but I'd traveled enough to know the rest of the world had its twists as well. We had a gun, no money, a half-empty Monster drink between us and a beaten-up Camaro, but that was all we needed for a long desert road out of California.

* * *

_Yes, there will be a sequel. I chose to do a sequel rather than more chapters because the setting of the story is going to change a great deal, and I didn't feel that it would flow well if I just kept going. Thank so very much for reading it! _

_Did you find the Easter eggs? No? Well start thinking! They really are there!_

_Now, let me explain something about Jeremiah. He was indeed one of the mafia members Mello worked with, and you can see him in the manga. I can't be sure he wasn't killed, but I can't find him dead anywhere. And no, Jeremiah isn't really his name. I don't think his name was ever given. You can see him on page 197 of volume 7. He's other places as well._


End file.
